Jimmy, Not Moses
by NotMarge
Summary: A normal life? No, that was impossible for a man with wooden lobster hands and two women sharing one body. But a happy, content life? Maybe, just maybe. Now including some romance starting in chapter 9.
1. No Man's Land

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I'm really trying to figure this one out.

Jimmy, Not Moses

No Man's Land

* * *

The night sky was dark and full of stars.

They stood quietly under it, the four of them, breathing deeply and calmingly.

Jimmy.

Bette.

Dot.

And Desiree Dupree.

Who sucked in the night air slowly, with her eyes closed, head tilted back, savoring it like a fine wine.

And opened her glittering dark eyes.

"Well, that's that, children. The show has come to an end."

They looked at her as if they'd never heard spoken words before.

"What do we do now?" Bette asked, sounding lost and childlike.

Nobody spoke for a long minute. Jimmy stared blindly at the ground.

Desiree seemed to square her shoulders before she answered.

"_You_ do whatever you want. _I'm_ going to clean out my trailer, call my man, and get the hell _out_ of here."

She sucked in another deep, cleansing breath.

"If you children want to come with me, meet me back here in fifteen minutes. If not, I'm leaving without you."

With a slight flare, she flounced off, ever brave, ever confident.

Ever Desiree.

At least on the outside.

Jimmy and the girls watched her go.

Then it was just them.

Adrift and lost and suddenly tired.

Bette tried again.

"Jimmy, what do you think we should do?"

He stared vacantly at them, feeling just as helpless and alone as they themselves looked.

Finally he mustered a few half-hearted words.

"I don't know. Get whatever we need out of our trailers like she said, I guess. And leave."

He hadn't been away from the freak show for any length of time in years and years.

Not since he was a boy.

And during his recent stint in the slammer of course.

Bette and Dot looked as anxious as Jimmy himself felt. They nodded uncertainly.

"Would you . . . would you mind coming with me?" Jimmy asked tentatively, too numb to feel embarrassed. "I don't know if I can get everything by myself. And . . . I don't want to be alone right now."

Bette seemed as relieved as Dot.

"Of course, Jimmy. And then we'll stop by our tent."

And so they went.

* * *

The trailer was empty and hollow. Dark and humid. It reeked of disuse and alcohol.

The last time Jimmy had been here, Bette and Dot had been present as well. Making themselves vulnerable, offering themselves to him. He had stupidly rejected them out of some drunken notion that he could get Maggie to take him back.

Maggie, who had been so instrumental in the demise of his now dead fellow freaks.

He stood completely lost and defeated for a moment.

And then he heard the crying.

Behind him.

He turned and saw tears streaking down Bette and Dot's faces.

"Oh, Jimmy, can you ever forgive us?"

He stared at them, baffled.

"For _what_, for god's sakes?!"

They were holding hands, the girls. Holding each other's hands for comfort and reassurance.

Holding hands.

And begging him, _him_, for forgiveness.

"For not getting you help sooner."

And then they spoke, first Dot, then Bette. One another, then the other, continuing each other's phrases as seamlessly as if they were one being.

And by the heartbreaking sound of their anguish, they seemed to be united and grieving as one as well.

"We thought we tried . . ."

". . . gave Maggie our money . . ."

" . . . told her to help you. . ."

Hitching breathes and heaving sobs overtook them for a moment before they managed to continue.

"We sent _her_ because she looked normal and wouldn't be stared at . . ."

". . . but that shouldn't have been important . . ."

". . . we shouldn't have trusted her . . ."

". . . we should have faced up to it ourselves . . ."

". . . because it was you who saved us in the first place . . ."

". . . from Dandy Mott when Elsa sold us . . ."

". . . and we should have come to help you . . ."

Jimmy couldn't take their tears, their pleadings anymore. He reached out for them, kissing each smooth forehead and making, meaningless soothing sounds deep as the dry wellpools of his eyes seemed to fill once more with bitter, burning tears.

"No. there's nothing to forgive. Nothing either of you could have done."

Which wasn't exactly true. They could have, _any_ of them could have. And then he might have his hands still.

Or something might have gone even more wrong and they might all be dead.

Instead of just most of them.

But that was neither here nor there. Nothing to be done now.

_All water under the bridge._

Or so Jimmy told himself as he held his crying friends.

* * *

It was just as she had left it, Ma's caravan.

Only darker and damper than when she'd been there.

An ancient, sagging, wooden thing.

It had been his home ever since he was little.

When Ma was straight and dependable and caring and his ma. And when she was on the sauce and belligerent and irrational and scary.

When she'd been locked up in the drunk tank, he'd been taken away from her. Weeks of scrawny, little him being picked on and beaten up by the older orphanage boys for his freakish lobster claw hands.

And then Elsa Mars had brought him back here to his Ma.

His Ma, dried out and in control and his Ma again.

Even when he'd got his own worn out trailer, a more modern metal thing with the words _See the Lobster Boy! _emblazoned on the side, this had still been _Ma's_ caravan.

Her things, her smells, her life.

Even now, it was hers and it seemed her essence still hung in the air after months abandoned and unused.

Their voices seemed to echo from the worn walls themselves instead of in his own head.

_Look, Ma! Watch me juggle!_

_Ah, now that's talent right there, son! _

_Yeah, I'm gonna wow 'em, Ma! Just like you said!_

_Ooooh, watch the bookshelf, Jimmy!_

_Whoops, sorry._

A gentle but not too gentle pat on his face, hers screwed up in a prideful smile, his beaming and excited.

_You're gettin' there, son. No doubt about that. Uh, let's go _outside_ in the sun where I can see you better._

'_Kay, Ma._

The voices faded as the memory Jimmy and Ma went outside. He'd continued to practice, almost nailing a roustabout in the head. Ma'd smoked a cig, smiling and laughing, the afternoon sun warm and bright on her face.

Her face lingered in his mind's eye, almost superimposed on the real surroundings Jimmy found himself gazing blindly at now.

Her costumes, some knickknacks, a few pictures in tarnished frames.

All of her possessions right where she had left them.

Except for a messy stack of papers and bits and bobs in disarray in front of her jewelry box.

_Wonder what had her in such a rush_, Jimmy pondered aimlessly. _She always took such good care of her stuff._

He wandered over and angled down a thin book from a shelf.

_The Poems of Emily Dickenson._

One of Ma's favorites.

She used to read them aloud as he fell asleep in his bunk at night.

Some were happy but most were sad and forlorn.

Ma'd told him poetry could be like that.

He balanced the book in his wooden hand, insides quaking.

Being in here made him miss her even more, feel his loss even more heavily.

He crumpled into a chair, head hanging and despondent.

He pressed his weary forehead to the book.

As if it were Ma's warm, broad hand instead of just old paper and ink.

_Oh, Ma, I'm sorry. I could have done so much more. I could have saved them. I could have saved you. Somehow._

At that moment, it would have been quite easy for Jimmy Darling to huddle here forever and just let the encroaching darkness inside take him down.

And he might have too.

All the way until the end.

If not for Bette and Dot.

They knelt before him, Bette laying a gentle hand on his knee.

"She loved you, Jimmy. She was proud of you."

Dot tenderly stroking his face.

"She would want you to survive. To live."

And he knew then he had to get up.

His friends wouldn't have it any other way.

They _needed _him to get up and keep going.

Even when all he wanted was to give up and quit.

So he took a deep breath.

_Goodbye, Ma. I love you._

And got up.

And kept going.

But first he carefully wrapped the precious tome in a soft cloth and stowed it away in his duffle bag.

And took it with him as he exited the darkened caravan for the last time.

* * *

**Hello, people! **

**Interested in spanning the gulf between weirdo popcorn drowning**** scene and Jimmy/Bette/Dot marital bliss? Promises to be fun and light (well, not this chapter) along with some darker fare as well. As is life. But trust me, some laughs along the way. :)**

**This won't be a daily update. But a coupla chaps a week, I think.**

**And the pic is a sorta 'path out of darkness thing'. **

**Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Don't Look Back

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I'm really trying to figure this one out.

Jimmy, Not Moses

Don't Look Back

* * *

"Oh baby, am I have _ever_ happy to see _you_!"

Desiree Dupree's crow echoed over the stillness of the camp as she caught sight of her tall, handsome beau, Angus T. Jefferson.

She had earlier gotten Jimmy to drive her on his motorbike into town.

To call her man in the dead of night, awakening him from a slumber no doubt ripe with luscious dreams of her and her voluptuous body.

And then grudgingly return to the site of the massacre to retrieve Dot and Bette as well.

Nonetheless, her man had arrived in a timely fashion and now stood in the headlights of his sleek, fine automobile.

She strutted out to him now, throwing her arms out wide and gifting him a loud smooch as showy as any of her performances.

He kissed her back and then nodded cordially to Jimmy and Bette and Dot.

"Evening, folks."

Desiree tucked an arm through his muscular one, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Angus turned to her slightly, his hand on hers.

"And now, my dear, what has changed your mind so abruptly that you call me up in the middle of the night to ask me to come get you for good?"

She smiled wider, winking over at their rapt audience.

"Oh honey, there is no time like the present to start a _new_ life, don't you agree?"

Angus T. Jefferson grinned dotingly at his outlandish woman.

"Well, of course, honey. If that's how you feel, I can sweep you off to the court house _tomorrow_."

He winked.

"Unless of course you want to find a nice little wedding dress and set up an entire shindig for the occasion."

Desiree's eyes practically glowed at the tempting prospect but then she laughed loud and long.

"Oh _hell_ no, honey! The quicker we get to the marryin', the quicker we can get to the honeymoonin'!"

She lightly smacked his rear and cradled up closer to him as he redirected his attention once more to the less dramatic members of their gathering.

"And what about you fine folks? Any plans?"

Jimmy couldn't think of a single thing to say in the light of all the brash and bold words Desiree had thrown into the cool night air.

Fortunately, Bette and Dot came to the rescue.

"Oh, I think it's time we left too."

"But we wouldn't say no to ride in your car to get us started on our way."

Angus T. Jefferson smiled and waved them toward his shiny, black vehicle. Then paused and looked back toward the camp.

"Don't think I've ever seen it quite so quiet here. No show tonight?"

Sick dread held them in its cold grip for a moment until Desiree burst forth again into performance.

"Oh, honey, they are _all_ partied out. Sleeping like the _dead_, they are."

Jimmy felt his guts churn at Desiree's turn of the phrase.

_Damn, she's tough. I don't know how she does it._

But he did really.

It was her way of laughing in the face of her terrors and nightmares. Denying them their control over her, weakening them so she could rise up strong and survive.

And he found himself admiring her for it.

* * *

"I've got an extra room at my house," Angus offered warmly in his deep rumbling voice as he drove through the empty night. "If you fine folks would like to spend a night or two."

Bette thought she saw Desiree Dupree glance over unhappily over at him for a moment before affixing her expression into something more compassionate and congenial.

_She doesn't want us there with them._

_Of course she doesn't, we'll be a reminder of all that's happened here._

_But we need a place to stay for a while._

_I guess she'll just have to deal with it then._

_No more than a week, sister._

_A week. Sounds like a plan._

"We wouldn't want to impose," Dot replied automatically for the benefit of the beginning-to-sulk Ms. Dupree.

She thought she saw a flash of relief momentarily pass over the three breasted woman's face before she once more wiped it away as the gentleman next to her responded once more.

"Oh, no imposition at all, ladies. Right, darling?"

Angus patted Desiree's knee kindly as the twins watched as her rally, plastering a generous smile on her strained face.

"Of course, not, honey. What are friends for? Though I'm sure our guests wouldn't want to stay cramped up in our teeny little house for more than a few days."

Angus seemed a bit taken aback.

"Teeny? So you think my humble abode is a bit too small then?"

And there Desiree was again, gamely trying to keep up with the decorum and good manners so infrequently celebrated outside the freak show world.

'Oh honey pie, no. It's just right for the two of _us_," she amended smoothly. "But, uh, the honeymoon might make it feel a bit too _small_ for our guests.'

She trailed luxuriant finger down his face as the man driving smiled at her suggestive nature.

Bette glanced over at Dot.

_Classy and sophisticated?_

_Not so much as she thinks._

And they repressed their sniggers once again.

"Then maybe I'll just whisk you away to a Tampa honeymoon for a few days and let them housesit for us. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

He glanced back at Dot and Bette smiling agreeably as Desiree practically glowed with excitement.

"A _honeymoon_?!" she cooed. "Oooh, you _sugardaddy_, you!"

And she curled up next to him, now openly running her red painted fingernails all over his body. The well suited man chuckled as he drove and Desiree murmured seductive whispers into his ears.

_I wonder if they know we're still back here?_

_If they don't and she gets him too riled up, we'll crash for sure._

_After all that's happened, that might be a bit of a kick in the teeth._

_I couldn't agree with you more, sister._

But they couldn't resist sharing a hidden smile between them at the absurdity of the entire situation.

_I wonder what Jimmy Darling thinks of all this?_

Jimmy Darling didn't appear to think much of it at all.

He was asleep in the seat next to them, wooden hands limp in his lap, tousled head leaned back against the headrest.

Bette reached out and brushed his face with the palm of her hand. Jimmy made an unintelligible sound in his throat, turning a little into her caress. His face relaxed from its hard, pinched expression into something slightly softer.

_Do you think he's going to be okay?_

_As much as we are, I suppose._

And they rode on through the dark night in the company of Angus T. Jefferson and his cooing ladylove, Desiree Dupree.

* * *

Angus T. Jefferson's blue painted house stood among other similar ones along a quiet, humble street on the outskirts of Jupiter.

It was small, he had been telling the truth.

A sparse kitchen with clean, white counters and sturdy appliances. Tiny Formica table with a chair next to a small, slightly smudged window.

Set off from a comfortably furnished sitting room with a scarred coffee table, armchair, and couch. A standing radio against one wall and a small black and white tv set on a metal stand against another.

A few pictures on the white walls of older people closely resembling Mr. Jefferson himself.

Plain simple privacy curtains at the windows in each room.

Two bedrooms holding a bed, nightstand, and dresser in each.

Small, clean bathroom separating them.

Snug little office den in the back of the house barely big enough for a desk, chair, and reclining couch.

Backyard harboring hanging clothesline and a modest shade tree.

The simple pad of a self-proclaimed bachelor.

Which Ms. Desiree Dupree would undoubtedly waste no time putting her finishing touches on.

Bette and Dot and Jimmy thought it was just fine as it was.

Because it was a roof over their heads.

And their friends had not recently died there.

* * *

**See, I told you. A little lighter.**

**And don't get me wrong, I believe Bette and Dot are upset as well about the fate of the carnies. But they have always had each other and now that they're really united (metaphorically, haha), I think they heal faster and find comfort in each other. **

**And besides, that's Desiree all over, don't you agree? *rolls eyes***

**Thanks to brigid1318, Jurana Keri, autumnrose2010, haily94, and Gracious Guest (Yay! Glad to see you again! Speaking of Asylum, I wrote for Kit and Jude twice if you're interested) for showing up for this new story. You guys are great! :)**

**Thanks as well for Mlppace for adding your support to this tale.**

**And yes, GG, husband is recovering nicely. He's enjoying being off work and playing video games and not experiencing debilitating chronic pain. Yay! And thank you so much for asking!**


	3. Nighttime Dalliances

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

I am trying to figure this one out, though.

Jimmy, Not Moses

Nighttime Dalliances

* * *

They were, the three of them, pretending to be asleep.

In the guest bedroom of Angus T. Jefferson's humble abode.

Simply because they didn't know what else to do.

Because the refined Desiree and her evidently well-endowed paramour were reuniting in the nearby bedroom.

Loudly.

And a lot.

_Desiree was right, this house _is _too small._

And getting smaller by the rollicking minute.

Still, it was good to hear sounds of life being celebrated instead of the blackness of death.

Life and, apparently, the unbelievable size of Angus T. Jefferson's tumescent member.

Bette &amp; Dot lay there, faces flushed, still and quiet in the semi-darkness.

Thinking of Chester Creb.

And his particular endowments.

And his doll.

_Pity he was completely crazy._

_And murderous. Don't forget murderous._

_Yes, but I really didn't mind the way he-_

_Sister!_

_What, you miss it too, don't be coy._

Meanwhile, Jimmy Darling lay on the floor, lost in his own thoughts and alone by himself in his own brain.

Although he was being completely lambasted by Desiree and Angus and their enthusiastic reunions.

He had grown up in the freak show circuit. And it never was a place of prudence and morality. Quite the opposite really. So Jimmy was more used to this sort of display than Bette and Dot.

But it had been a long time for _him_ personally.

Or felt like it anyway. Especially in the midst of all that had happened.

And that was wearing thin.

_Boy, I miss Marie the sword swallower. She sure knew how to make a guy relax._

Marie hadn't really been his first, just a very _talented_ one. And there had been a few, just a few, others before the recent Jupiter summer of calamity.

And the Tupperware ladies of course.

He never could help but grin when he'd unveil the magic of his lobster hands in the dimly lit bedrooms of their secret parties and they'd slowly lose control.

Bodies writhing, faces contorting in ecstasies they'd never known with their husbands or any other 'normal' men in their stifled little lives.

His bad boy image (that had been part of the allure for them, hadn't it?) had melted away every time as he felt his face break into a wide, boyish grin as their eyes rolled up and they moaned and cried out and . . .

But those thoughts didn't help his current situation, which for Angus and Desiree seemed to be escalating, so he tried to push it away.

And ended up in another remembrance.

Of Maggie.

He'd wanted to believe in her so much.

Her beauty, her purity.

Her care and desire to be with him.

She'd been great, she'd looked great.

She'd _felt_ great.

And it had all been a lie too.

_She helped kill my friends._

Renewed anger and grief started to bubble up in him and that was even less helpful so he shoved that down deep in his gut too.

And ended up with fat Barbara.

Where everything being shoved down in his gut turned sick and sour.

He'd used her, fair and square, to make his own misery and loneliness go away.

Used her and then hadn't even had the decency to save her from the murderous Dandy Mott.

Poor Barbara, who just wanted to be loved and accepted.

And fed.

But he'd been too busy being angry and sick and confused and drunk to be of use to anyone.

But at least not too drunk to take advantage the Bette and Dot, who even now lay just feet away.

He honestly still couldn't remember much of their exchange in his trailer.

There'd been talking. And kindness. And tears.

And boobs.

Strange boobs.

Turning away from that strange and oddly beautiful body had been quite a feat for him.

The only time in his life he had thought with his big head and not his little one.

Covering the girls up and trying to be considerate.

And now, here in the dark with the rowdy rabbit duo in the close by room, he found himself drowsy and pent-up with his thoughts lazily wandering.

_I wonder if I'll ever manage to get some tail again. But who'd want a guy with no hands?_

_Girls, if you squeeze one, does the other one feel it too?_

_Boy, I wish I had hands again. I'm too much of a gentleman to baste the ham with them in here, but at least I could scratch my nose without poking myself in the eye._

And then he drifted away again as the sisters continued their own private conversation.

That, interestingly enough, almost mirrored a few of Jimmy's hazy thoughts.

_Goodness, they sure are persistent, aren't they? It's almost . . . inspiring._

_Wonder what would happen if we just jumped up out of this bed and onto Jimmy?_

_Sister!_

_What? They shouldn't get to have all the fun, should they?_

_Well, no, but . . ._

_Might make us all feel better. Especially if he knows what he's doing. I bet he does, you know._

_Sister!_

_And you know he's fancied us._

_Plus he must thinking of it too. How could anyone _not_ with those two nearby?_

_So you agree then?_

_Well . . ._

Then they heard it.

A quiet sound.

Rhythmic, repetitive.

Coming from the man on the floor.

It was a surprising sound, a private sound.

One they did not expect.

And it surprised them as they realized what it was.

_Well, I never . . ._

_I didn't think he could do it right now, what with circumstances being what they are and all._

_Well, at least _somebody's_ getting a little relaxation and release._

They listened, astounded, for a moment longer.

To the soft sound of snoring.

Jimmy Darling had somehow managed to fall asleep.

_Damn._

_Sister!_

_Oh stop it, you're a little disappointed he fell asleep too._

_Well . . . yes._

And then after quite a bit of religious incantations from the infamous rabbit duo, the house fell quiet.

Angus and Desiree were done.

Finally.

Again.

_Quick, go to sleep before they get started again!_

_Well, based on their previous activities, I'd say we've got about twenty minutes._

_Unless, he gets up for a sandwich. Then it's less._

Seconds later, they heard the big man's heavy footsteps padding down the hallway toward the kitchen.

_Damn._

_When do they go on their honeymoon?_

_Two days._

_I'm going to be delirious from lack of sleep by then._

They listened to the blessed silence for a few moments, broken only by Jimmy's soft snoring.

_Well, at least Jimmy'll be nice and rested up in the meantime._

_Unless we wake him to do the dance of the no pants . . ._

_Sister!_

And they giggled quietly together in the darkness.

* * *

**Yup, I went there. I totally did. Fun, huh?**

**Thanks to brigid1318, The Cry-Wank Kid, GG, haily94, and Jurana Keri for reading and reviewing. **

**Oh and GG, I'm doing fine, thanks. You are _so_ considerate! Sure you don't want to get your own account so we can hang out and chat?**


	4. In-Between Time

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I'm really trying to figure this one out.

Jimmy, Not Moses

In-Between Time

* * *

When Angus T. Jefferson and his blushingly joyful newlywed wife went off on their honeymoon, the house was uncharacteristically quiet.

Bette and Dot took it upon themselves to wash his sheets . . .

_How in the world are we going to get this honey out of the fabric, sister?_

. . . and slept in the slightly bigger bedroom, giving Jimmy the guest bedroom.

The first two mornings, they awoke to find him wrapped up in his sheets and blankets at the foot of their borrowed bed.

And when he got up, he sheepishly apologized for intruding upon their privacy, saying he worried about their safety.

And he probably did.

But there was another reason.

He knew it and they knew it.

_He's lonely and scared._

_He needs reassurance, comfort._

_But he won't say it out loud._

So they invited him to stay.

And he did.

* * *

His friends, his freak family, they were there. Bloody and shot and dead.

But there.

Walking toward him.

Their dead red rimmed eyes haunting in their corpse stares.

He backed away, bile rising in his throat, sour-sick on his dry tongue.

Paul, his friend, Paul. Paul who'd had such life and charisma in death.

"Jimmy . . . why did you let us die, Jimmy . . ."

His tattooed short arms flopped bonelessly in death as he shuffled toward his old friend.

His old friend who backed away in abject horror and shrieking fear.

"No I didn't mean to! It wasn't my fault! I'm sorry!"

Legless Suzi was creeping up underneath him, her dead head lolling up toward his on her strong, broad shoulders.

"Die with us, Jimmy. Be dead in Hell with us."

He stumbled, nearly fell as something unseen temporarily stymied his way.

"No, I don't want to die! I want to _live!_"

"Jimmmmyyyyyyy . . ."

Amazon Eve, her tall, lovely, voluptuous figure, now lurching unhinged toward him.

". . . how could you let him do it to meeeeee . . . "

They were all there, closing in.

All of them.

Even Maggie.

"I want you now, Jimmy. I'll let you touch me all over like you used to . . ."

She grinned, bloody and gruesome, holding her guts in her hands and shuffling toward him.

"I'll put my lips down there and make you cry out to me . . ."

Jimmy backed away and found himself trapped against an invisible barrier. He could go back no further. But they, they could move.

And they did.

All of them.

Forward.

Toward him.

They were going to kill him, make him dead like them, make him pay for his sins.

For an endless night, all of eternity.

And suddenly the voice of an angel called out to him from the gloom beyond.

He couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed warm and loving and forgiving.

He stumbled blindly toward it, reaching out, grasping desperately for that which he could not see.

Until he opened his eyes in the dark.

Sweating and moaning, confused and lost.

Someone was touching him, lightly on the face.

Gentle fingers, tender caress.

Words floating over him like an elixir of blessed serenity.

"Jimmy, Jimmy, it's okay. It's just a dream, it's over, Jimmy. Wake up."

Bette. Dot. One of them. Both of them together.

He felt them, sitting near him on the floor.

Talking him back from hell.

Bringing him back to life.

He edged forward, tears for his friends and guilt and shame for himself streaming down his face.

He buried his face in their lap, wrapping his arms around them as they ran their fingers slowly over and over through his sweat damp hair.

They let him cry himself empty.

Stayed until he feel asleep again.

And then stayed a little longer.

Keeping watch in the dark over him.

And his dreams.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

The sun was shining and it seemed the day would be warm.

But Jimmy could find the joy in it.

They were sitting, eating breakfast together at Angus T. Jefferson's small kitchen table.

Well, the _girls_ were eating.

Dot had oatmeal. Bette had fruit.

They shared a stomach and didn't need to eat much but they did enjoy their own separate tastes.

Which Jimmy might have found fascinating.

If not for the inner quagmire he floundered in.

"Whatever for, Jimmy?"

"Bawling like a baby last night," he admitted. "I'm sorry. You don't need that noise."

Bette shook her head as Dot spoke.

"There's nothing to feel sorry for, Jimmy, my darling. We are here for each other. That's what family is for."

He smiled ruefully at his plate, playing with the bacon and eggs on it, not quite daring to look up.

"Well, men aren't supposed to cry anyways I've heard."

One of the girls, he didn't know which, huffed in derision.

"Well that's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If you didn't have emotions, you wouldn't be human, would you? And then what would you be?"

_Massimo the carpenter_, Jimmy thought forlornly.

"So you just get rid of it until you're cleaned out . . ."

". . . and then we'll see if we can fill you up with something new."

Jimmy took a deep breath and forked up a mouthful of eggs he really didn't want.

"If you say so," he replied, trying to sound a lot lighter than he felt. "I think I'll start with these eggs."

And he did, forcing himself to look them in the eyes.

He even managed a smile, fake as it was.

And they smiled back.

_He's not okay._

_I know._

_But he might be, in time._

_If we help him._

_If he lets us._

_We'll just have to make him._

_Yes we will._

_I love you, sis._

_I love you too._

* * *

Jimmy thought he might, amidst the turmoil of everything else, be 'entertaining feelings' for the girls, as Ma used to say.

There in the dark, after all the lights were turned out, they would lie awake and talk.

Them in the bed and him on the floor.

Sharing stories about their lives before that fateful year of 1952. Listening, really _listening_ to each other. Chuckling appreciatively at happy memories of times gone by. Commiserating with sorrows and losses of long ago. Brutally, painfully honest with one another. Drawing out emotional and mental pains like splinters out of a wound, laying bare their souls.

Sometimes Bette would fall asleep and he and Dot would continue on in conversations in slightly more hushed tones.

Sometimes it was the other way around and then he and Bette would continue on while Dot slipped off into her dreams.

They both had distinct personalities.

Dot was more direct, more practical in her thinking.

Bette was more of a dreamer, of a believer.

Or had been before Elsa had sold them, before Dandy had tried to twist them, before Chester had overwhelmed them with his charm and sophistication. And creeping insanity.

Now they were damaged and wounded, all of them.

But healing, finally healing.

Maybe.

* * *

It was a peaceful week.

They stayed in the house, enjoying the quiet and solitude.

The girls cooked small, simple meals for them.

Toast and eggs and milk for breakfast. Or oatmeal with cinnamon and orange juice.

Light tomato, bacon, and lettuce sandwiches for lunch.

Meatloaf and mashed potatoes with rolls for supper. Or soup loaded with vegetables and served with cornbread.

The meals were small but flavorful and filling.

And much easier to eat once Jimmy Darling figured out how to tightly secure a cloth around one wooden lobster hand. Wedge a fork or spoon between the wood and cloth. And balance it all the way to his mouth.

"Wow, you girls are real chefs!" Jimmy would praise around mouthfuls of food.

Bette and Dot would smile appreciatively first at him, then at each other.

There wasn't much to clean or tend to within the small house but they kept up what there was.

Nor was there a plethora of reading material available other than a Bible and the week's newspaper.

There was, of course, Ethel Darling's book of Emily Dickenson poems.

But Jimmy wasn't quite ready to tackle that yet.

They were still quite tired and overwhelmed by all that had occurred within such a short span of time.

And so light afternoon naps seemed in order as a reprieve.

Followed sometimes by music and dancing in the living room.

Jimmy Darling needed extra, frustrating time with what once had been quick, off the cuff, daily routines.

Such as dressing himself, brushing his hair.

And using his own toilet.

For which he was immensely grateful for Angus T. Jefferson's indoor plumbing.

But he figured it all out, little by little. And it got easier, little by little.

They played cards for toothpicks and Jimmy discovered to his delight that his Tattler darlings were complete cardsharks.

They stargazed at night and bathed in the winter afternoon sun of the fenced-in backyard.

Between the three of them, there was much friendly conversation as well as companionable silences.

Jimmy waited until after dark to take out the garbage and take in the mail to stack on the counter.

In the evenings, Dot and Bette introduced Jimmy to 'I Love Lucy' and 'What's My Line' and they all staunchly refused to watch the evening news.

It was a soothing, healing week.

And they were grateful for it.

* * *

**All a bit hunky-dory here, I suppose. Save for my patented nightmare section. (What can I say, it's what I do.)**

**But hey, everybody needs a break sometimes, yeah? **

**Anyway, thanks to brigid1318, The Cry-Wank Kid (&amp; her bizarrely brilliant brain), haily94, Jurana Keri, autumnrose2010 (soon, but not too soon), and DinahRay/GG (woot-woot!) for your fantastic reviews. You're all just sooo fun! :)**

**Next up, baby birds out of the nest. **

**Or something. **


	5. Time to Go

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I'm really trying to figure this one out.

Jimmy, Not Moses

Time to Go

* * *

When the happy couple returned from their honeymoon, their housesitters greeted them with hugs, handshakes, and pecks on the cheek.

After some light chatter, Desiree, ever resourceful and full of plans and confidence, crowed triumphantly that she had found them a fully furnished little house to rent in a small town near Tampa. She proudly presented them the keys and declared her man had provided the first three months' rent.

And, with a meaningful look, announced that they could move in any time they wished.

_I guess we should go on soon then. It'll be more difficult the longer we wait. _

_Not if they keep celebrating their honeymoon it won't be. _

They took the hint from Desiree Dupree-now-Jefferson and, enthusing more than they really felt, went to pack their meager belongings for the next morning's departure.

Angus had a friend who had no need of a truck.

So they agreed to take that.

* * *

They were to leave within the hour.

They had driving directions from Angus T. Jefferson.

And rental agreement papers.

And, as it turned out, a quite generous, quite unexpected departing gift from Desiree Dupree-now-Jefferson herself.

She had stolen Bette and Dot away from evening conversation in the backyard to reveal her offering.

"Alright, girls, before I send you off into the wide world, I want you to take this."

She thrust a white envelope into their unsuspecting hands.

They knew what it was before they peered inside. But were still shocked at the discovery.

"Desiree!" Bette gasped as Dot stared numbly at the thin green rectangles.

Money.

Lots of money.

In twenties and tens and fives and ones.

_Oh my goodness, sister, she went off and robbed a bank!_

_Oh no, she didn't, silly. Did she?_

The former murderous carnie chuckled with obvious delight as Bette carefully thumbed through the greens and Dot mentally tracked grocery bills and living expenses.

"Why, there's hundreds of dollars here!" Bette gasped in shock.

The twins stared at Desiree Dupree Jefferson.

The same woman who'd sauntered into the freak show on the arm of a strongman monster.

The same woman who'd casually dismissed Maggie Esmerelda's tragic end by stating she was going to pilfer her jewelry.

The same woman who had seemed to really not care much for anyone but herself and hers.

The same woman who was now gifting them hundreds of dollars of cash that she could easily have kept for herself as recompense for all her suffering.

"Where did you get it?" stammered Dot, as shaken as her sister.

Though they suspected they already knew.

"Some of it's mine," Desiree admitted. "Some of it's from the troupe. I searched their trailers before we left. Then I took it to the casinos in Tampa and gambled it up."

The twins stared at her as if it was _she_ who had grown an extra head.

She huffed at them, her temper riled.

"What? You ain't too _proud_ to take it, are you? Besides, they weren't using it. And I know damn sure they wouldn't want it to sit and mold to waste when it could be used to feed those they loved!"

_She's not lying, _Dot admitted.

_But still, _Dot pressed, _it's so much!_

_Not as much as you think. It won't last forever. _

_Well, thank you for the ray of sunshine, sister. _

_Oh hush, _Dot relayed good-naturedly.

Then they refocused themselves on their surprisingly generous benefactor.

"Does Angus know?" Dot ventured, not wishing to press Desiree too far but unable to help herself.

Desiree drew herself up with pride.

"Yes, he does, honey. Not about the troupe, but that it was my money and what I planned to do with it. He agreed whole_heartedly_."

The stunned women before her floundered.

So Desiree continued.

"My man can provide for me, don't you worry. And this will help until your man can provide for you."

Bette blushed even as Dot shook her head.

"Oh, Jimmy's not our man."

Desiree's lovely face morphed into a picture of weary exasperation.

"Oh good _Lord_ . . ."

There might have been no stopping her if not for Bette.

"Why are you giving this to us instead of Jimmy, Desiree?" she interrupted, bewildered.

The lady Desiree face's suggested the girl might be attempting to be intentionally dumb as a bag of hammers.

"Because unlike that _boy_, _you_ won't waste my time arguing with me anymore!" she exclaimed, then pierced them with her sharp gaze. "_Will_ you?"

Bette shook her head obediently, a small smile finally playing about Dot's lips.

"No, ma'am."

Desiree relaxed then, nodding with satisfaction.

"Mmm-hmmm."

It wasn't over yet though. It just couldn't be."

"But . . . what about your surgery?" Dot hazarded, uncharacteristically timid. "You were looking forward to it so much."

Desiree shrugged, seeming without consideration.

"Ain't no doctor I know to do it now," she admitted casually. "And anyway, my man loved me, truly loved me, and accepted me with it in the first place. And _not_ 'cause I was a freak. And not 'cause he was a _fairy_ either!"

The girls smiled together, finally mollified and accepting.

"Thank you, Desiree. Thank you so much."

Desiree nodded, then put a hand to each woman's outer cheek.

"You just use it good to take care of yourself out there."

They nodded, suddenly feeling emotional and weepy all over again.

"And for the goodness' sake, don't let on to _Jimmy_ about it 'til you get there!"

They chuckled together then, the women and their secrets.

"No ma'am. We might even have a drink first before we tell him."

Desiree nodded sagely.

"Or two."

* * *

"Thank you so much for all you have done for us," Bette said to Angus T. Jefferson as they stood beside the battered old ford.

He smiled and welcomed their hug modestly.

"It was all my pleasure, ladies," he smiled warmly. "You be careful and safe."

They shyly kissed him on his cheeks and then stepped back.

Desiree hugged them tightly.

"Take care of yourselves," she murmured. "Don't let that fool boy get himself into any more big trouble."

She released them then and Bette found she could not help herself.

"We'll try," she quipped. "That's a pretty tall order, Mrs. Jefferson."

Desiree flicked her eyes to the men who were shaking their farewells. Then back to the girls.

"Aint _that_ the truth," the three breasted woman agreed lightly. "But I have no doubt you both are up to the challenge."

They shared a warm, sisterly smile, the three of them.

Then with tears in her eyes, Dot said, "Goodbye, Desiree."

"Take good care of yourself and Angus," Bette finished for them.

Desiree nodded. And her fingers, clasped near her heart, caressed the air momentarily. As if she wanted to reach out and hug them again.

But she did not.

Instead she moved her arms and put her hands saucily on her hips, throwing them one of her patented Desiree smiles.

"Go on now, before it gets too late. You got somewhere to be!"

Bette and Dot obeyed and got into the truck.

Then Desiree turned to Jimmy who was turning away from Angus.

He looked at her.

And everything stood there between them.

It was a lot too. So very much.

"Time to go, Jimmy," she whispered brightly.

He nodded, seeming unsure and slightly fearful.

He opened his mouth to speak, though he had no idea what he might say.

But he never got the chance to figure it out.

Because suddenly Desiree's bright and outlandish exterior cracked and her dark eyes filled with tears.

She stepped forward, grabbing Jimmy's face swiftly, desperately, in her red-tipped fingers and brought her face inches to his.

Surprised by the abrupt action . . .

_Uh, you're not going to kiss me, are you? 'Cause I don't have my lobster claws anymore. And Angus might kill me._

. . . he still managed not to flinch.

Desiree's gaze bore into his brain, into his heart, into his soul.

"Now you listen to _me_, Jimmy Darling," she nearly hissed in her adamancy. "You got a fresh start here, a real chance."

Her face was full of Desiree fire and surety and passion.

"You let the past be the _past_. You let them ghosts go and you _live_, you hear me?"

He felt trapped, captivated.

He felt fiercely loved.

And ready to break apart and weep.

As Desiree continued.

"_None_ of it was your fault. You couldn't have changed it or stopped it. And you sure as well didn't need to die with it."

She was working her Desiree magic, raking open his still wounded soul to revel the hidden guilty truth, like a sick, quiet black plague.

"Those girls care about you. And you care about them. I can tell."

_Damn her. Why does she have to see so much even when she pretends not to?_

"So you let that go and find all that happiness out there that you can. Because you _deserve_ it."

He was trembling in her grip.

Trembling and trying not to show it.

"I love you, Jimmy Darling. I always will," she paused, lower lip trembling. "Now you go out there and be a good man."

Then seemed to steel herself, willing him to do the same.

"You take care of those girls and let them take care of you. You _let_ yourself be happy."

Then she hugged him fiercely, nearly squeezing the life from him.

He hugged her back, feeling flayed and loved and overwhelmed and grateful all at once.

"You make your mama Ethel . . . and _yourself_, proud."

He thought she'd let go of him then.

But she didn't.

Because she had more to say. She always did.

"And don't you worry about those hands either, sweetie. You'll figure 'em out and be okay."

She finally released him and gently pushed him away.

"Go on now."

He nodded, his eyes saying everything he couldn't. She nodded back, understanding all the unspoken words that called out to her from those dark orbs.

Then as Jimmy started to turn toward the truck, Desiree Dupree Jefferson threw out one last statement of grand aplomb.

"And don't you wreck my honey's old truck with your hotroddin' either!"

Jimmy grinned at her sideways, lopsided and fondly.

"Goodbye, Desiree."

She smiled at him.

And in that moment, she was simply a dark, beautiful angel, pure and lovely and finally free.

"Goodbye, Jimmy."

He got into the truck and shut the door.

He pretended he wasn't straining to pull himself together by the skin of his teeth.

And Bette and Dot noticed.

And allowed him his privacy.

After a moment, still not trusting himself to speak, he gestured for Bette to turn on the engine.

She did.

He pressed his foot down on the clutch and directed her to shift into drive.

She did.

The three of them looked back at Desiree and Angus T. Jefferson on the front lawn of their modest home.

They smiled and waved, shimmering slightly in the brimming vision of their friends.

Then Jimmy stuck a wooden lobster claw hand out the window.

Waved goodbye.

And drove away.

* * *

Angus T. Jefferson gazed admiringly, curiously, at the emotional woman at his side.

"What was that all about, Wife?" he asked not unkindly.

She let her gaze linger on the slowly dwindling figure of the truck before answering.

Then she transferred her misty yet strong regard to her new husband.

The tall, handsome, kind, sophisticated man who had visited the freak show.

Found himself his goddess.

And taken her out.

To make her his, and _only_ his, wife.

"Oh, that?" she said coyly. "That was just some family talk."

She smiled at him, very nearly glowing.

And he bent his head.

And kissed her under the warm winter Florida sun.

* * *

**And so the baby birds leave Mama Desiree's nest.**

**Thanks to brigid1318, autumnrose2010, haily94, Jurana Keri, Dinah Ray, Mlppace, YellowBrickQueen, and The Cry-Wank Kid for your great reviews! Glad to see you enjoyed that chapter so much!**

**Thanks also to Gioves for adding your support to this story. :)**

**So I wonder what will happen next?**


	6. A Drowning Man Rescued Again

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I'm really trying to figure this one out.

Jimmy, Not Moses

A Drowning Man Rescued . . . Again

* * *

Jimmy Darling, ahem, Jimmy _Walker_, as he was to be known now, was in a room.

All by himself.

Without wheels or Jimmy-rigged electricity.

There was a real bed, narrow and creaky as it was.

And a tiny bathroom.

A fully _functional_ bathroom.

With hot water in the shower.

A real flushing toilet.

And a sink to wash his hands in. If he'd had hands.

It was a room.

Off white walls, threadbare rug.

Clean and quiet.

Small and spare.

But a real room.

And Jimmy Darling hated it.

Because he was alone there.

With nothing but his thoughts, his memories.

His isolation.

He'd had his own trailer at the freak show since he was fifteen.

But he'd always known he could simply open the door and people would be there, milling around, chatting, doing chores, developing and honing their acts.

His family, his friends.

Just a door and a few steps away.

This, now, was different.

This was loneliness. This was sadness.

This was the end of the world.

Because his friends, his family, they were gone.

Forever.

And they were never coming back.

Desiree, despite all her good intentions, had been wrong.

He _could_ have saved them. Or at least had the decency to die trying. He could point out the different moments in time when he could have made a difference and changed the entire course of events.

But he hadn't.

And now he could never go back and fix it.

Desiree was off with Angus T. Jefferson, starting a life of domesticated bliss.

She didn't want them around to be a reminder of what she had once been, what she had once done.

And he really didn't blame her.

Dot. Bette. He had let them go. Sent them away from him to their little rented house. So he wouldn't be a burden.

They had argued, cried, pleaded.

And then when he had simply chosen to walk away, they had tried to give him his half of Desiree's money.

Which hadn't been right.

There were three of them, it should be split three ways.

Only fair.

They had invited him to eat supper with them any night, every night he chose, spend afternoons with them.

He didn't do it. Didn't allow himself.

And now he was all alone.

And he thought he might die.

And he thought he might welcome that.

* * *

He sat and stared fixedly at the unopened bottle of liquor on the table.

The room was quiet and still.

Too still.

And too lonely.

He sat there, trying to think of a reason not to die in it.

_So many of my friends are dead._

_I'm alone._

_I deserve to be alone. For not saving them._

A knock sounded on the door.

The sound of a person that wasn't sure if they should be there, but was anyway.

Jimmy got up and opened it.

Just a little.

To Dot.

And Bette.

Bette and Dot.

He wanted to hug them.

He wanted to kiss them.

He wanted to thank them for showing up when he needed it most.

But instead he just stood there like an idiot.

Tears shone in their eyes and their lips were trembling with emotion.

"Almost all of our friends are dead, Jimmy."

That was Dot. Always straightforward and told it like it was.

"But we're not. And we don't want you to be either."

Bette now, a gentle voice amidst the tumult of his emotions.

"Please let us in, Jimmy."

Dot, pleading with her words and her eyes.

So he did, moving back and allowing them access into his sorry, lonely excuse of a room.

Closing the door, he turned and saw them looking at him with dark eyes of sorrow and compassion.

And found himself reaching out for them as they stepped into his arms.

They held him tight as his shuddering tears racked his body and theirs. And added their tears to the salty mix.

"Please don't ask us to leave, Jimmy. Not anymore. We need each other. All of us."

He held them tighter, his face down between their joined necks. It was comforting. Someone who knew him.

Someone who cared.

Two of them.

Two beautiful souls who came to retrieve him from the cliffs of despair over and over again.

"I know. I won't. I'm sorry."

* * *

They were sweet.

And kind.

And gentle.

And completely insane.

They, Bette and Dot.

They wanted him to _leave_ the room.

Go out in the _world_.

In the middle of the _day_.

_Him_.

The Tupperware Ladies' Murderer.

"I can't go out into the world like a normal person not even with these hands! I'm a wanted murderer, remember?!"

He was losing control, falling apart, just as trapped he had always been in his freakdom, in the world that didn't understand. That didn't _care_ to understand.

"All those Tupperware ladies! Butchered and multilated! They thought it was _me_!"

Bette nodded, her face a picture of compassion and sorrow for his misery. She reached out and took his wooden hand and then moved upward to his forearm where he could feel her touch.

"But they've found the real killer, Jimmy. You're free and clear."

Jimmy stopped, alarmed.

"They . . . they found Dandy in the big top?!"

Both girls' faces were grim.

"No, not Dandy. Chester."

_Chester, Chester . . ._

Jimmy blinked.

"The weird guy with the doll? The one that killed Maggie?"

Bette nodded.

"Rumor is, he went to the police station with the broken up doll in his arms, raving about how he'd killed 'her'."

Bette stopped and shivered. Dot took up the thread.

"We think he meant the doll but he was still covered in Maggie's blood, so they just pinned it on him since he was a raving lunatic anyway and you had escaped. It was clear that he had harmed somebody and they were embarrassed you were gone."

Now Dot shuddered.

And Bette smiled.

"So you're free, Jimmy. You don't have to hide. They're not coming after you anymore."

Jimmy frowned.

"But . . . Chester didn't do it. It was _Dandy_."

Dot raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Do you want to go back to the police and explain how you know that and show them where his body is so they can take him into custody?"

Jimmy shuddered then, completing the circle of disgust and revulsion.

"No."

Both girls smiled together.

"Then take the gift of freedom and go with it, Jimmy."

Jimmy said nothing for a long moment, then raised his wooden hands in renewed defeat.

"But there's still these. And I can't do anything about them."

His was in a pitiful state but the girls glanced at each other with secret smiles.

"Oh Jimmy, _darling_, we thought you had a creative mind."

And smiled at him all over again.

"But I guess even men need a little help sometimes too."

They each took an arm as he stared at them uncomprehendingly.

"You worked up north as a logger in your youth . . ."

". . . you loved it so. The fresh air, the hard work, it made you feel alive . . ."

Jimmy stared at them, incredulous, as they spun their tale.

". . . and one day a log cut loose at the wrong time . . ."

". . . and your buddy, Paul, was right in the path of destruction . . ."

Paul, Paul the Illustrated Seal. Paul, whom he could not save. Paul, his friend.

". . . you shoved him out of the way but couldn't get clear yourself in time . . ."

". . . and your hands were caught, crushed, ruined . . ."

". . . they had to cut them off to save your life . . ."

Dot's eyes shimmered liquid brown beautiful.

". . . but you were alive and Paul, he was unharmed and safe due to your bravery and self-sacrifice . . ."

Bette smiled beatifically, biting her quivering lip.

". . . When you healed, you came as far south as you could because the cold makes your stumps ache and cry . . ."

Dot finished the story.

". . . but your friend, Paul, he has always known what you did for him. And he's always been grateful."

Jimmy felt tears on his eyelashes.

It was a beautiful story. It was a believable story. And best of all . . .

"Paul, you let me save Paul."

They smiled and shimmered in his vision as the tears of gratitude slid down his cheeks.

He reached out for them again and held them close once more.

"You let me save Paul."

* * *

But he was still afraid to go outside.

And Bette and Dot just would not let it _go_.

"Let's start small, Jimmy. Come for a walk with us. Out in the sunshine. You need sunshine and fresh air. It will make you feel better."

People were out there. People would look. People would see.

"But . . ." he stammered.

Bette nodded understandingly as practical Dot spoke in a calm convincing voice.

Honestly.

"People are going to stare, Jimmy. They're going to stare at us and they're going to stare at you. There's no getting around that."

She paused, glancing over at her sister who took up the thread.

"But after all we've been through, we want to live. And we're not going to let anyone stop us. Or you."

They stood and held out their hands to the man floundering in a sea of misery and self doubt.

And he, for lack of a better plan and wanting so badly to have hope again, considered it.

Took them.

And rose.

* * *

People did stare.

People did look.

People did see.

And Jimmy and Bette and Dot let them.

And offered warm, friendly smiles even when their gawkers couldn't or wouldn't.

It was the first of many such excursions.

And it went as well as it could.

Other times it did not go quite so well.

Sometimes it went horribly.

Once someone went to jail.

But wasn't Jimmy or his darlings.

And eventually, people grew accustomed to them, if not overtly friendly.

And they stayed by each other.

And moved on.

* * *

**I figured there had to be a reason Jimmy wasn't always a hunted fugitive (anybody else hear Tommy Lee Jones mouthing off right now?) and crazy Chester already gave himself up for 'killing' Marjorie, so it seemed to fit. **

**Thanks to brigid1318, Dinah Ray, The Cry-Wank Kid, autumnrose2010, and Jurana Keri for your fantastic reviews. I really appreciate you all.**

**Thanks as well to the silent readers of this story. Hope you're enjoying as well. :)**

**I think we'll skip time here for our lovelies and give them a little space. **

**But I still got some more of their story to offer up. If you like. :)**


	7. Disturbing the Natural Order

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really can't call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Disturbing the Natural Order

* * *

Six months had passed since Bette and Dot had begun diligently drawing Jimmy out of his self-induced isolation.

He had finally conceded to move in with them in their little rental house, the logic being why waste money on a rented room when there was already one to spare.

They co-existed together.

Friends. Companions.

And nothing more.

Well, mostly.

Sometimes Bette would catch Dot or Jimmy giving one or the other sidelong looks. Or special smiles.

Though neither really contrived to say anything.

Bette tried on occasion to talk to her twin.

_I think you have a gentleman admirer . . ._

A secret smile. Slight reddening of the cheeks.

And a dry retort.

_Yes, Mr. George Burns does look fondly upon me from the warm glow of the television set, sister, but can you really blame him?_

_Sister . . ._

A sigh. A moment of consideration.

_Yes, Jimmy, I know. But . . . I don't think he's really ready, do you? _

_No, well, no. But . . ._

A second or two of reflection.

_Maybe this is enough for now. Just all of us being together in peace? _

_Okay, but when you're ready to talk . . ._

The pat of the hand. A grateful smile.

And yet another wisecrack.

_Yes, sister dear, you will be here, I know. _

A good-natured snort.

Followed by a returned jibe.

_Well, don't be so sure of yourself! I might just steal your Mr. Burns right out from under your snooty little nose and run away with him if you don't watch out!_

And they all moved along together.

In peace.

For the most part.

* * *

Occasionally though there was some strife.

As is bound to be in any caring human relationship.

_I'm going to kill him._

"Okay, Bette, lift your foot from the clutch. _Slowly_."

_No, you're not._

"Dot, press on the gas. Oh, not so much, not so much!"

_He's making me crazy. _

"Okay, we're rolling, good, but we don't want to go too fast in case a dog or something . . ."

_I know. Me too. But he means well. _

". . . watching your mirrors too, don't forget . . ."

_Yes, I know. _

"Hang on, maybe we should start over."

_But I'm still going to kill him. _

And I'll take us to a parking lot or some . . ."

_No, you're not._

It was a warm, sunny, puffy-clouded summer day.

And Jimmy Walker, their _darling_, was treading a thin line between life and death.

And he didn't even realize it.

But Bette and Dot did.

For they were the ones currently plotting his demise.

If he didn't . . . stop . . . _talking_.

Finally, the girls pulled over and stopped Angus T. Jefferson's old blue truck.

"Yeah," Jimmy nodded, looking relieved and trying to hide it. "Good to take a break and try again tomorrow. Or this weeke-"

Dot reached out and put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Jimmy."

Her voice was calm and sweet.

He loved the soothing sound of it.

"Yeah?"

Her gaze was so warm and ki-

"Shut up."

_Huh?_

"What, what's wrong?"

He glimpsed Bette's face beyond her sister's.

So solemn. So sincere.

Taking this driving lesson so seriously.

"Nothing's wrong, Jimmy."

Of course not. They were together.

Friends.

Family of sorts.

"Jimmy, you're wonderful."

_Awww_.

Always caring for hi-

"Now get out."

_Huh?_

"What?"

"You're driving us crazy and we can't concentrate to do this. Get out and well see you at home."

He stared at them, confused.

And concerned.

"But . . . but what if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen. _We_ are going to practice just around the block until we get it right. And _you_ are going to let us. Now get out."

Jimmy sat and stared at them for a moment in disbelief.

And concern.

And still confusion.

_But . . . things were going so well._

"We'll be fine," Bette reassured as Dot touched his face gently. "Go."

So for lack of a better plan, Jimmy did.

He exited the vehicle, closed the door, and stood uncertainly on the sidewalk.

He anxiously watched them sit immobile in the truck.

Started to move forward to help them.

Thought better of it_._

_You're driving us crazy._

_Me? _

And stayed still.

After a minute, Dot took hold of the gear shift and Bette turned on the blinker to signal that they were about to pull back into the quiet neighborhood street.

The car moved slowly but, Jimmy couldn't deny, more smoothly than before.

And off the girls went, leaving Jimmy alone half a block from the house.

And after watching them go, he did the only thing he could.

He went home.

* * *

Relationships, even the best ones, can also contain the occasional disagreement or two.

Of _preferences_, so to speak.

Even when one or the other party has the best of intentions at heart.

"We have something to show you."

Dot and Bette seemed excited.

Which made Jimmy curious.

So he followed them.

Right into the bathroom of all places.

And stood with them before their decidedly unremarkable toilet. With some extra pipes and handles newly attached that Jimmy had never seen before.

Then again, he had been gone for almost two whole hours.

Almost anything could have happened in that space of time.

_But . . ._

"It's a toilet."

They giggled at his obvious statement and Jimmy, relishing the light sound, smirked and found his silly side standing in the little bathroom.

"What? Is it a _magic_ toilet?"

Dot gifted him a wry gaze as Bette covered her laughter with her hand.

"Almost. It helps you clean up easier after you . . . go."

Jimmy peered at the still water skeptically.

"Uh, what do I _do_ with it?"

Bette giggled and spoke.

"Well, first you sit down and go."

Dot pointed.

"When you're done, you turn that lever and water . . . cleans you."

Jimmy stared from the toilet to them and back again a few times.

"Really?"

They nodded.

"Do you want to try it?"

He edged carefully away.

"No, uh, no, no. Not right now. Maybe later . . . sometime."

They watched him make his wary escape and giggled to each other.

Jimmy eyeballed the bidet-ed toliet for days, refusing to allow himself to sit down and go until he was nearly walking funny. The girls waited him out, knowing he would have to eventually.

They were darning some socks on the couch when it finally happened.

Jimmy had nonchalantly entered the bathroom and closed the door several minutes before.

Now the girls jumped as they heard a string of muffled curses emitting from that same bathroom.

Looking at each other in surprise, they burst into stifled giggles.

Jimmy emerged after a few minutes, red-faced and attempting to walk normally.

"Are you okay?" Dot managed in a strangled voice.

The sheepish man didn't quite look directly at them but rather vaguely at the space around them.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," he muttered in a voice that belied anything but.

They waited with baited breath.

Jimmy rubbed the side of his head thoughtfully.

"Where'd you say you got that thing from?"

Bette's face was slowly turning pink from restrained laughter as Dot responded.

"We special ordered it from France . . ."

". . . and installed it ourselves . . ."

". . . we can be very handy in a pinch, you know."

Jimmy stood there for a second, his entire face a mask _and_ a question.

"Boy those French people sure have some crazy ideas, huh?" he finally squawked.

They smiled cautiously, mostly just afraid of their own bubbling laughter.

"Well, did it work?"

He appeared to inspect the ceiling intently for a moment.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, it really did. That, uh, that was a good idea."

And as he wandered into the kitchen for a drink of water, they burst into stifled snorts of laughter again.

And decided to try it for themselves.

It really _was_ an interesting experience.

* * *

**A bit of fun here, I think is in order. Poor Jimmy, just trying to keep up, huh? **

**Well, anyway, hope you enjoyed it. **

**Thanks to Dollface129, brigid1318, Jurana Keri, haily94, Mlppace, and DinahRay for your wonderful reviews.**


	8. Persistance, Patience, and Good People

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really can't call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Persistance, Patience, and Good People

* * *

"Boy, I could use a drink," Jimmy sighed, a wooden hand over his eyes.

It had been a bad day.

More attempts to find gainful employment. More rejections.

Most people were hesitant about hiring a man with no hands even with a noble logging story.

So Jimmy was getting grumpy. And the girls were worried.

He had been rejected so much lately, they were afraid he was going to give up if he didn't get something soon.

A man needed to feel as though he could provide, could be of use.

Or else he would be filled with bitterness and shame and anger. Or simply fade away into shadow.

And they couldn't bear for him to become either.

Also, the money wouldn't last forever.

They made it stretch, Bette and Dot.

They knew how to be frugal after a lifetime of living close to the edge with their grim, unhappy mother.

They took in sewing projects from the rarebneighbors who would speak to them, such odd looking women living unmarried with a man right in the same house.

They were quite good with making clothes, having had the necessity of it for themselves their entire lives.

And their simple, comfortable, lovely frocks were much appreciated by the few modest ladies who dared to give them consideration.

It wasn't a lot, the meager monies they earned. But it was something.

Jimmy had taken to wandering around the neighborhood and its nearby blocks, keeping an eye out for odd jobs.

Cleaning gutters, painting fences, mowing lawns.

The hooks helped.

They had been a splurge during the first few tight months.

"Jimmy, my darling, we hope you don't take offense, but perhaps wooden, immovable hands such as those might be a bit . . . too challenging in your day-to-day life outside the house."

He had looked at Bette, with her sweet, tentative eyes and then to Dot.

And known they were right.

His hands, his wooden lobster claw hands, were sentimental keepsakes. A remembrance of what he'd never appreciated until they were gone.

But they were a trial.

Manageable at home, perhaps even somewhat comforting.

Out in the world, not so much.

So when Dot had expounded upon the subject by suggesting a prosthetics' clinic in Tampa, Jimmy hadn't said much. Just nodded and gone with them.

And with some finagling of price and the logging story explanation, been fitted for something a little more modern.

Silver hooks.

With simple pulleys that attached to his upper arms.

They opened, they closed.

They grasped things and put them down.

They were much more useful and dexterous.

And not his beloved, behated lobster claws.

But he wore them when they were out.

And still struggled to get work.

And so on the night when Jimmy sat, frustration making him yearn for the escape of a brain-numbing liquid, Bette and Dot knew he was approaching a crossroads again.

_He wants alcohol._

_I know._

_There's a bar down the street if he decides he wants it bad enough._

_But we can't let him have it, Bette. We can't let him open that door again. He doesn't handle it well._

_No. But what do we do?_

_I have an idea._

"Oh we can take care of that," Dot replied aloud airily.

Jimmy's darlings got up and disappeared in the direction of the little kitchen.

And momentarily the returned with a nice, cold, open bottle.

Of Coca Cola.

He looked at it, confused.

_Not exactly what I was going for._

And looked up and saw their knowing smiles, their direct, meaningful gazes.

_But just what I need._

And smiled at them.

"I love you girls."

It was the first time he said it.

And they weren't sure what context he meant it in.

But he meant it all the same.

So they simply smiled and sat down on the couch with some sewing.

And watched 'The Adventures of Superman'.

"Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane!"

Jimmy sipped his refreshing, ice-cold Coca Cola.

And talked to the black and white television, which of course could not actually _hear _him.

"It's a guy in _tights_," he quipped, for the appreciation of wonderful women who took such good care of him.

Who chuckled at the dry wit of their Cola-chugging darling.

"And where _do_ they hide his junk, anyway?"

"_Jimmy!_"

"What?"

And they knew he was going to be okay for a little while longer yet.

* * *

". . . going to do just _fine_, Jimmy, my darling."

Sweet Bette, so encouraging and kind.

As stern Dot glared at his face.

It wasn't that she wasn't trying to be encouraging.

She was actually just trying not to slice his chin off.

Because she and her chatty sister were shaving their friend's slightly scruffy countenance.

It was one of the very few things he couldn't do for himself.

Well, that and shirt buttons.

Except messing up shirt buttons usually didn't prove potentially fatal.

So while Bette prattled away to distract him, Dot scrutinized the planes and rises of his face.

It was a handsome face.

So very handsome.

And so very sliceable.

Especially with such a sharp razor.

_No wonder men prefer beards. This is a living nightmare. _

_Only if you gut him, sister dear. _

_How very _reassuring_. _

_You're quite welcome, of course._

_Oh hush, you._

But Bette keeping rambling on in her sweet Southern voice, keeping Jimmy staring in her lovely, kind face.

And Dot considered her surgery.

They usually only shaved him on Sundays, as he was such a light bearded fellow anyway.

But today was special.

Jimmy Walker, the man with the hook hands, former freak show-er and twice murderer, was about to go off to his first day at his new job.

His very first 'real' job.

And he was practically drowning in fear and anxiety.

It was unlike any other employment he'd ever procured.

There would be no caramel corn, no gasping crowds.

No erotically charged Tupperware ladies or secreted cash.

But there would be a broom and crates.

And definitely a backdoor, an alley.

Of a pop and mom grocery store two whole blocks away from home.

Jimmy Walker was going to be a shelf stocker.

Part time.

But just now he thought he was going to be sick.

"What if I drop something?"

Dot maneuvered around his jawline . . .

"You'll pick it up."

. . . as Bette continued her encouragements.

"What if I put something in the wrong place?"

Carefully avoiding marring the strong cheekbones . . .

"Just put it back where it goes."

. . . and as her sister attempted to calm the panicking, grown baby-man.

"But what if I forget what to _do_?"

Edging the upper lip as he paused for breath . . .

"Then you will _ask, _darling."

. . . as her twin's well of patience began to run low.

"But . . . what if-"

Dot placed a hand over Jimmy's mouth and looked into his dark eyes, crinkled with worry.

"Jimmy, my darling, please close your mouth and think happy thoughts so I can shave your chin without killing you."

Shifting his gaze to her, the man in question did as he was told.

Finally, Dot lowered the razor and the girls stepped back.

Jimmy hooked up a towel and patted down his face.

"There," Dot announced calmly. "All better?"

Jimmy, a grown man of the world, looked straight at them, his face a rictus of strained positivity.

"Yes, thank you."

A beat of silence.

"Would you girls excuse me for a minute?"

They nodded and exited the bathroom.

The door shut behind them.

And they heard the sound.

Of retching.

Jimmy the big, grown, working man, was throwing up.

Dot sighed.

_Better put more toilet cleaner on the list, dear sister. _

_Yes, and mouthwash as well. _

Then after brushing his teeth _again_ and washing out his mouth _again_, Jimmy Walker opened the door.

Went to work.

And did just fine.

* * *

**Boy, loads of interactions with that toilet lately, huh? **

**But maybe we'll do something different now. **

**Hmmm, I have an idea ;)**

**Thanks to brigid1318, The Cry-Wank Kid, DinahRay, Jurana Keri, and Autumnrose2010 for your lovely reviews.**


	9. The Start of Something Again

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really can't call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

The Start of Something . . . Again

* * *

The first time Dot and Jimmy kissed was in his darkened freak show trailer.

He had been drunk and unclean.

Torn apart with grief and guilt.

And still it had been what Dot had wanted.

Offering up everything, her and Bette along with her.

Nearly naked, revealing their conjoined body to a man for the very first time ever.

Offering themselves, their most secret parts.

It had been an extreme move.

That had not ended well.

The second time they kissed was very different.

Earlier that evening they had spontaneously splurged (a whole dollar) on a diner meal of burgers, fries, and shakes.

Chatting together, the three of them, enjoying the simple freedom of being out.

Ignoring the bewildered looks of people who fancied themselves more appropriate, more socially worthy than them.

Who really should have taken a cue from the former carnies.

And been more accepting.

Or at least minded their own business.

But that was no matter.

Because they had each other, the three of them.

Then, in a fit of wild abandon, they had spent even more of their precious coinage on a night at the movies.

Jimmy had insisted on paying for three tickets (a whole dollar _and _a dime), as there were three individuals amongst them.

And the movie teller had only nodded, stunned and mortified by their shocking arrival.

And done as the hook-handed man had insisted.

They'd even purchased popcorn to share and cokes (another twenty cents) as well.

And so it was that the rolling high spenders for the evening sat and indulged in the uncommon pleasure of a night out at the movies.

_'Gentleman Prefer Blondes'_

_Marilyn Monroe _

_Jane Russell _

Bette was watching the film, completely engrossed in the predictably unpredictable antics of Marilyn Monroe when she felt it.

A slight pull to her right, nothing unusual.

"I can be smart when it's important. . ."

She barely noticed it, a lifelong accustom of a conjoined twin.

_Oh, I am gonna remember that line, thank you, Ms. Monroe. _

Until a rush of tingles and heat flowed unexpectedly through her body.

_All_ of her body.

_Oh, now really, she's not that . . ._

And she glanced to her right.

_Oh._

To see Dot and Jimmy joined in a kiss.

A rather innocent, lovely kiss.

But a kiss nonetheless.

Which seemed to be having a profound effect on their shared body.

She felt happiness for her sister, through the euphoria surging through their body.

Followed by a touch of yearning.

_Oh to be desired. _

Which she resolutely pushed away.

And, determined to respect her sister's privacy, resolutely focused on the screen.

And whatever the hell was happening on it.

Which she couldn't quite find the desire to care about.

* * *

Dot wasn't expecting it, wasn't trying to get kissed.

She was simply enjoying the time out, the time with him.

And Ms. Monroe, of course.

"Excuse me, but what is the way to Europe, France?"

_Good luck with those bidets, honey. You're in for a real treat._

Though she really didn't mind when it did happen.

She was smiling and laughing, enjoying the silliness of the movie.

And glanced over at him, wondering he was really enjoying the ridiculous film or simply kindly waiting for it to be over for the girls' sake.

_Then again, he does have Ms. Monroe and her _assets_ up there to entertain him._

Jimmy, her darling, glanced over at her, his dark eyes alight, gratefully, with something other than tears.

And a small smile on his lips he probably didn't even know was there.

_Oh. He doesn't care about her much at all, does he? He sees me. _

Her heart warmed and swelled at the fond look he gifted her.

Then his gaze deepened into something more and he leaned toward her.

His lips held residues of salty popcorn and sweet cola.

He tasted delicious.

And wonderful.

She unconsciously brought her hand up, fingers barely grazing his jawline.

Savoring the simple, lingering contact.

That send shivers and tingles all over her body.

_Maybe gentlemen don't really prefer blondes after all then._

* * *

Jimmy had not intended on kissing her.

He hadn't planned it.

Some sort of sparks or electricity or whatever those sappy romance people called it, had been going on between them for a while.

And he'd tried to ignore them.

Because he was broken.

A handless, jobless man living off the charity of others.

When it'd always been _him_ who had led people, taken care of them.

So he wasn't really accustomed to feeling so useless.

And good women like Bette and Dot didn't need a useless, worthless waste weighing them down.

But he'd been feeling so much better lately.

Gotten hooks, much more useful for the outside world.

A job, his first _real_ job outside of the freak show.

With a schedule and regular pay and a nametag and everything.

He'd been feeling more . . . _normal_ than he had in a long time.

Maybe ever.

And it was all thanks to those lovely women beside him.

Dot and Bette.

His saviors.

So he hadn't suggested burgers and a movie with a date in mind.

Just . . . celebration. Of things starting to turn around maybe.

Get better.

Just maybe.

But there in the darkened theater, chuckling at the lightness and frivolities emanating from the screen . . .

"There was an old man named Sidney... who drank till he ruined a kidney . . ."

_Haha, nice one, toots._

. . . he'd felt swept away.

Glanced over at her, at Dot.

And seen the carefree happiness on her face, she'd so rarely possessed, he'd known he cared sincerely for her.

And when she glanced over at him, her eyes aglow and nothing brooding and sad within them, he'd thought she looked like she cared too.

And he'd forgotten he was a man who had lost almost everything just over six months ago.

He'd forgotten he was a handless freak.

He'd just been Jimmy.

A guy.

Looking at a pretty girl.

His friend.

It had seemed so natural.

So welcome.

To lean over.

And simply kiss her.

So he did.

And she let him, her soft lips willing and welcome.

And kissed him back.

And it felt grest.

* * *

_What do you think? _

_I'm not sure._

They stood uncertainly in the living room, looking upon an equally uncertain Jimmy Walker. The first awkward moment of the evening.

But they were determined to get through it.

_Well, feel him out then._

_Sister! _

_Not like that, silly. _Ask_ him. _

_Well, that's a bit more appropriate. And boring. _

_Oh hush and just talk to the man. Don't leave him standing there like a big dope!_

_Well, what should I say? 'Oh, Jimmy, my darling, care for an evening of the dance of the no pants?' _

Bette giggled inwardly at her sister, desperately maintaining a straight face toward the man standing suddenly lost in his own living room.

_Well, maybe not _that _forward. _

Dot held out her hand to Jimmy. He reached out with his wooden one and took it.

Instantly reminded that he was now not the man he used to be.

And completely at a loss at how to proceed as such.

"Jimmy," Dot began tentatively with a coy smile. "Would you like to . . ."

He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

And he simply could not let her.

Not with him.

Not like this.

"Dot," he interrupted anxiously. "Do you think we could . . ."

Jimmy, once a smooth man of the world, blushed despite himself.

". . . just . . . date for a while? Like normal people?"

Bette smiled fondly as Dot stroked his face.

"Why I'd be _delighted_, Mr. Walker."

He huffed, growing more embarrassed with each passing moment.

"Aw, don't be like that," he scolded. "It's just that . . . well, carnies don't really date or anything. So I've never tried it before."

He shuffled uncomfortably. Not only did he want to try a shot at being normal, he was also afraid of how to pleasure a female when he had no hands. He could think of one _really_ good way, but that seemed like too much to start with.

So he was at something of a loss.

But he just couldn't talk about that yet.

"Unless it's too weird," he amended.

The women, those wonderful women, smiled in unison.

"No, it's lovely, Jimmy."

Bette talking this time while Dot gazed adoringly at him before taking up the thread.

"And I'd very much _enjoy_ dating you."

And Jimmy grinned shyly.

"Unless you don't want me. Unless you'd rather have a guy with better prospects. And real hands."

It was incredible to know that he'd so well angered two girls at once.

"What a thing to _say_!" Bette spat, her face a sear of anger.

Dot narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

"Who are _you_ to tell me what I want and don't want?!"

Jimmy stood skewered, being glared down by two identical girls at the same time.

"I am a grown, mature, _intelligent_ woman!"

His forehead was about to catch on fire.

"And _I_ can make my _own_ decisions, Jimmy, _darling_!"

Then Dot's glare softened.

"And _I_ have always wanted _you_," she continued more softly. "I only left you alone because you said _you_ didn't want _me_."

_Well, and then he got arrested . . ._

_Shut _up_, dear sister._

Her deep, dark eyes suddenly shimmered with unshed tears.

"So I choose you. Unless _you_ don't want _me_."

Jimmy shook his head adamantly.

"No! I care about you, _both_ of you. I have ever since I met you."

He stopped, hating to admit his next words.

"I just can't do anything for you. Not like this."

Tears stood now in his eyes and the clearest thought floated past him.

_I am so _damn_ sick of crying. I didn't always used to cry, did I?_

But the girls seemed unconcerned with Jimmy's supposed limitations. And it was Bette who now spoke.

"You can do just what she needs you to do."

That statement seemed to hold an enormous amount of innuendo and Jimmy felt his jaw drop slightly in shock at the sudden shift in conversation.

Bette giggled as Dot spoke abruptly.

"Oh no, not _that_. Well, not yet anyway."

And then she giggled as Jimmy's jaw dropped further.

"You can . . . share yourself, just like you've been doing. Your thoughts, your life. You don't have to be anything special. Just you, Jimmy. You're enough, more than enough."

He wanted to believe them, that he could be something good for somebody.

That he could matter.

That he could be cared about.

He wanted to believe.

He just didn't know if he could.

But he knew he wanted to.

* * *

**That's right, friends and neighbors, a mere two dollars and some coins for an entire night out! I know, makes me cross-eyed too. **

**Anyway, here we wander off into uncharted romance territory. Anybody remember the map? The instruction manual? Magic eight ball? No? Crap. **

***squares shoulders, cracks knuckles***

**Okay, then. Guess I'll just have to make it up as I go along. And I'm sure you'll let me know if you don't like something, so we'll just trust each other then, yeah?**

**Most grateful thanks to brigid1318, Jurana Keri, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, and haily94 for keeping with those lovely reviews! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you all :)**


	10. How to Proceed

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

How to Proceed

* * *

They lay in bed together that night.

Bette and Dot.

Both quiet and sifting through their own thoughts.

Until one of them spoke up to the other.

_We need to talk, dear sister. _

_No, we don't, Dot. _

_Yes, Bette, we do. _

A quiet sigh.

_We've been through this before, Dorothy Jean. My feelings have not changed._

_Perhaps not, dear sister. And we're going to go through it again all the same._

_There is nothing to go through. Jimmy wants you. I choose you, my sister. So be with Jimmy. Be _happy_._

_It's not that simple, Bette. _

_Yes, it is. I can give you your space, go away when you two are together. I want you to be happy. _

_And I want the same for you, Bette._

_Then get Marlon Brando on the _telephone_, dear sister!_

A sarcastic huff.

_I thought it was Mr. George Burns._

_Oh, no, dear sister, a free spirit like me can't be tied down to just _one_ suitor. _

_Tied down? I haven't thought of _that_ . . ._

_Oh my, I really am going to have to go away in my head, aren't I? _

_Well, love is not always black and white, sweet Bette. There are some _grey_ areas._

They chuckled together at their ridiculousness before quieting and becoming solemn once more.

_Dot?_

_I know._

_I just want you to be happy. _

_I know. _

_I love you, sister. _

_I love you._

After that, Dot gave in and said no more.

And they eventually slept.

* * *

When Dot and Bette set a simple, delicious breakfast of toast and bacon and eggs and juice before him the next morning, Jimmy reflexively responded.

"Thank you."

And lightly kissed Dot before digging in.

Bette turned slightly away to check to make sure the stove had been turned off.

And when Jimmy headed off to work, he bid them farewell.

"Bring you two anything?"

When they shook their heads, he nodded amicably.

"Okay. See you tonight."

And kissed Dot goodbye.

Bette checked her watch to make sure he wasn't about to be late.

Their day passed smoothly and uneventfully.

Which was just fine by them.

They cooked. They cleaned. They sewed. They chatted. They read and listened to music.

They even sunbathed a little in their fenced-in backyard.

It was a simple, enjoyable day.

Bette could feel a little extra energy and buoyance tracking through their shared body.

And knew it wasn't for her.

And decided it was okay.

When Jimmy got home, Dot greeted him with a kiss.

As Bette glanced out the window to check for stormclouds.

After supper as they took an evening stroll along their street, Dot and Jimmy linked their arms together, blushing and grinning like a couple of teenagers.

And Bette carried a small bouquet of colorful flowers she'd picked to put in a vase in their living room.

When they retired to the couch to watch 'The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet', Jimmy shyly snuggled up to Dot.

And Bette wondered how Harriet could wake up every morning with such perfect hair and makeup and no doubt sparkingly clean breath.

When Dot began to yawn so much Bette nearly fell asleep, they turned off the black and white.

And bade goodnight to Jimmy.

Who indulged in kissing Dot for several long minutes.

As Bette made a list in her head of tomorrow's grocery store trip.

When Dot and Bette lay down in their bed, Dot's happiness flowed out into the room, making the air smell like spring flowers and the streetlight on the wall dance like newly freed butterflies.

They spoke for a while of this and that.

Never talking much of Jimmy other than their pride of his newfound employment and his more positive outlook as of late.

And never at all mentioning his newfound hobby of kissing a certain lovely Tattler sister.

When Dot's conversation drifted off and her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and more even, Bette found herself alone.

Quite alone.

Though not as much as she had felt every time Jimmy and Dot connected and she, Bette, studiously found something else to occupy herself.

_But I choose my sister. I want her to have happiness and love with a good man. _

_And Jimmy is a good man. _

She lay there, thinking these thoughts.

Listening to the quiet.

And forcing her side of their shared body to relax, one clenched muscle at a time.

_I will not destroy her happiness. Not again. Not when we've come so far._

_But how can I do this forever?_

She lay there, alone and struggling.

Loving her sister, wanting her to have the happiness and affections of a good man like Jimmy.

And wondering, wondering, wondering . . .

Until she too fell asleep.

With a thick, heavy heart.

And tears on her lashes.

* * *

Jimmy, previously Darling, lay in his room in his bed.

Alone.

And happy.

And torn.

It had been so long since he had felt rushes of excitement in the girl department.

Since Maggie Esmeralda, the fake fortune teller murderess.

Even now months and months past, he still felt sick and hurt and angry at the mere passing thought of her.

But she had made him feel this way, with her red lips and blond hair.

Some.

But there had always been a part of her he couldn't touch.

Not physically, no.

He'd used his lobster hands and his tongue and every other part of himself he could to touch every single part of her he could.

And she had felt great.

But there had been a part of her as a person that always remained off limits to him.

She dodged questions, lied up answers, manipulated, shied away from truths.

Right up until the end when things had come to light and her fake light had proved only to be darkness and evil.

Even if she herself hadn't hurt his friends, she hadn't stopped it.

Not until it was too late.

And even if she had changed, turned into the good person she pretended to be, he could never forgive her.

But this wasn't about her.

It was about the girls.

The women.

Bette and Dot.

They now were open and free and loving and caring.

To him and, more importantly, to each other.

And he knew it was real because he saw them when they didn't know he saw them.

And they were together.

Not sappy, syrupy fake.

But real and alive and united and together.

Happy.

And he loved them for it.

So happy for them and their peace.

Each for who she was.

But his thicker, more romantically inclined feelings manifested themselves with Dot.

He wasn't sure why.

Bette was every bit as delightful and wonderful as Dot.

But Dot was the start.

And he worried about the end.

He wanted to be with her.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to touch her.

It made him, would make him, feel good.

So good.

And he thought, with the glow he saw in her eyes, the way she opened her mouth to his, that it did, and would, make her feel good too.

But Bette was part of the situation, part of it all.

An important part.

She wasn't just an accessory to her sister. A piece of clothing or a pin on her lapel.

She was a person. A human being.

A lovely girl that he cared for.

And did not want to hurt.

Being so close to her sister, probably feeling whatever her sister felt in their body, had to affect her.

And knowing those feelings were not being directed toward her must surely cause some amount of upset.

Of discontent.

And he cared for her too much to cause her such unhappiness.

It was she, along with her sister, who had drawn him out of his darkness, saved him when he couldn't save himself.

It was she and Dot who had been his light.

It was Bette herself that made Jimmy laugh and smile and feel loved and cared for.

Sometimes along with her sister; sometimes completely on her own.

How could he hurt her by denying her happiness and love when her sister, inches away and sharing the same body, had it in droves?

Jimmy had never considered himself a ladies' man.

Oh he'd wanted to, what guy wouldn't?

Girls milling all over him, wanting him for themselves, fighting echo other to get the privilege.

He'd practically dreamed about it.

But that kind of thing didn't really happen. Not to a guy with lobster claw hands.

The Tupperware ladies didn't count.

They used to him to spice up their dull, restrained lives.

They didn't want him to stay. They didn't want his love.

They just wanted his hands.

And then when they had their fill, they wanted him to take his money and go away.

So that was different.

And carnie girls.

He'd taken 'em as he could get 'em.

Maggie to Desiree (he inwardly shuddered at his disgusting behavior now) to Maggie to Barbara.

And the scant few who'd come before them.

And they'd done the same with him.

Technically when he'd gone from one to the other, he had been a free agent.

But still he had been out-of-control, thinking-with-his-little-head Jimmy.

And too much was at stake for him to be stupid this time.

This, _this_ he wanted to do right. It had never been more important to get it _right _than this.

_But how do you get it right when both girls you care about are joined with a body?_

They had different thoughts and feelings. Different interests and desires.

And both deserved love if and when they wanted it.

And not necessarily from the same guy.

_How did you make _that_ work?_

It gave Jimmy a pounding headache and a worried heart.

So he closed his eyes and resolved to figure it out in the morning when his mind was fresh.

But it still took a long time to go to sleep that night.

And in the light of day, he still hadn't solved it.

* * *

**So yeah, complications all around then? Yeah, I thought so. **

**And I'm sure you'll tell me what you think. 'Cause that's your job. So get to it! :)**

**And **_**please**_** somebody tell me you caught the 50 Shades of Grey reference in the sisters' conversation? I don't like FSoG myself and know the girls wouldn't know it, but the ref just wandered out.**

**Well, anyway, thanks to brigid1318, Jurana Keri, DinahRay, The Cry-Wank Kid (oh look, Jimmy didn't cry here. Weird, huh? *winks), and autumnrose2010 for wading through this long winded talky chapter. You're wonderful, the lot of you. :)**


	11. Winds of Change

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Winds of Change

* * *

"Harder, Jimmy, harder!" Dot cried out urgently.

"Faster, Jimmy, faster!" Bette beseeched, her voice nearly a moan.

"Don't stop now, we're almost there!"

He paused suddenly in his rhythmic exertions and they gazed up at him with pleading, desperate eyes. _Begging_ him not to stop.

They _needed_ him to keep going. To finish what he had started.

But instead he gestured vaguely with his hammer.

"I love you girls. But yelling at me isn't going to get these planks put up any faster. The hurricane doesn't show up 'til _tomorrow_. But I'm going to have a heart attack _tonight _if you don't take a break."

He didn't yell or even raise his voice to them.

But his face showed his growing frustration and they felt a touch, just a _touch_, of compassion.

Dot relented somewhat, though Bette still seemed strained.

"Sorry, Jimmy."

"We're not really used to storms like this."

They handed him a cold iced tea as he clamored down from the ladder, releasing said hammer and taking the glass in one hook.

It was really refreshing.

He sipped it again.

_Mmmm, delicious . . ._

Dot and Bette observed him in his damp white shirt. Jeans clinging to the thigh still propped up on the lowest rung of the ladder.

_Mmmmm, delicious . . ._

_Cool it, sister. There's a storm coming._

_Why yes, I think there is too . . ._

_Sister!_

_What? Look at Thigh Man. You know I'm right._

_Well, yes._

Jimmy set down his glass and glanced up at them.

He raised his eyebrows in curious amusement.

"What are you two grinning at?"

They giggled, sounding for all the world to themselves (and Jimmy) like teenagers.

And he grinned his dimple right at them.

_Oh Lord, sister, not the dimple . . ._

_Yes, I do believe I feel a bit fluttery . . ._

_Well, now you sound like Miss Scarlett O'Hara._

_Oh shut u-_

_Oh Lord, he's bending over. _

_Oh my . . ._

* * *

They waited all night, nervous and worried.

All the windows were boarded, breakables wrapped up and carefully stowed away.

Batteries, flashlights.

Blankets, portable radio.

Simple, unrefrigerated food and containers of fresh water.

First aid kit.

All stored neatly in a box near them.

A bucket in the bathroom for possible toiletry needs should their plumbing be cut off.

There wasn't much to do after everything was set and gathered but for them to sit and wait for the storm.

So Bette took down a book from the shelf and began to read aloud.

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Sweet, gentle Bette really seemed to really relish the adventurous tale.

She often even deepened her lilting, Southern voice into a guttural, piratey timbre for added effect.

"_Ah," said Silver, "it were fortunate for me that I had Hawkins here. You would have let Old John be cut to bits, and never given it a thought, Doctor."_

"_Not a thought," replied Dr. Livesey cheerily._

While Jimmy their darling lay on his back, head on a pillow, staring up at the darkened ceiling.

The talk was old and sometimes difficult to follow but he enjoyed the telling nevertheless.

And found himself intrigued.

_Man, that girl sure knows how to tell a story._

_Well, at least I don't have a peg leg. _

_I wonder if the bird ever dumps on Silver's shoulder._

He dozed here and there into piratey dreamscapes, only to be awoken by wind knocking refuse into the side of the house.

And Bette read on.

In the end, the damn hurricane wimped right out and turned into a tropical storm.

With nothing more than some heavy downpours and lightening and moderately strong winds to show for itself.

Didn't even lose power for more than a couple of minutes.

Which was just fine, all things considered.

* * *

The next morning when the sun came out, they went to survey the damage.

Some of the shingles had blown off the roof.

Branches lay scattered about. Refuse here and there.

So all in all, not too much for their sparse yard.

They chatted together as they worked and within the half-hour, the yard was clean.

And then they saw neighbors over in the next yard, struggling with a heavy branch.

And went to help.

* * *

Just as one yard would be cleared, they would see other neighbors with damaged property.

And they would go to offer their assistance.

Some people nervously shooed them away.

Most did not.

And of the ones who did accept their help, there was some sidelong staring.

At the twin heads.

And the full set of hooks.

But it passed.

Whether out of acceptance or exhaustive work effects, they did not know.

And didn't really matter.

* * *

Jimmy was in the middle of lugging a small tree off a busted dog house when he looked around.

And saw no trace of Bette and Dot.

Fear skittered up his spine like a creepy crawly creature and suddenly he knew somebody had grabbed them.

And were doing horrible things to them.

He would never be able to save them.

He would fail them.

Just like all his other friends.

But then, just as he was on the verge of a panic attack, he caught a glimpse.

His Bette and Dot.

With a plate of fourthed sandwiches and lemonade on a tray.

He sagged in relief, willing his heart to stop pounding so loudly in his ears.

And gazed fondly at them.

They were smiling and handing out sandwiches, pouring cups of lemonade to grateful workers.

They worked their way up and down the street, gathering people as they went.

_More hands, lighter work. _

That's what Ma had always said.

And she was right.

* * *

And by early evening, the block was clean.

A balding man whose name Jimmy couldn't remember walked up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Whew, I'm exhausted. You know what we need now? Grillin'."

Jimmy stared at him, astounded at the formerly reserved man.

Who had apparently forgotten that Jimmy had no hands and lived 'in sin' with a two headed woman.

"Yeah?" Jimmy managed.

The man wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow and squinted up at the clear blue sky.

"Yeah, whaddaya say? Have your ladies bring more of that lemonade? I'll have mine make some sweets for dessert."

Jimmy gave him a tentative smile.

"I'll ask them."

The man nodded, whipping out a pack of smokes and lighting one with the ease of years of practice.

"Alright, I'll head out to the store for some dogs and such and you spread the word with everybody."

Jimmy concurred in bewilderment and the man clapped him on the shoulder once more before starting away.

Then he paused, looking back.

"Oh, and . . . Jimmy, is it?"

The man winked.

"Thanks."

* * *

It was a big gathering, nearly half the neighborhood.

Lots of talk, lots of laughter, lots of good scrounged-up-from-the-kitchen food.

The stars and moon were bright overhead, the clouds waved away by the gentle breezes that had cooled them all day.

Occasionally somebody offered Jimmy an ice-cold beer.

Which he'd casually shrug away.

Somebody brought a guitar and Jimmy nearly asked if he could try playing it with his teeth.

But he didn't.

The evening festivities were a surprise to him because most people seemed to gradually forget the oddities of the people they were talking to and just talk to them.

It seemed like a dream.

He really hoped it wasn't.

* * *

When they finally rolled in late that night, exhausted and full of grilled goodness and sugary desserts, and newfound friends, Jimmy went into his room.

Turned on the bedside lamp.

Opened the top dresser drawer.

Used his right hook to detach his left from its sore stump and lay it carefully inside the open drawer on a towel set there just for that purpose.

And his teeth to detach his right and join it with its mate.

Instead of immediately snatching up his wooden lobster claw hands from their resting place atop the dresser and attaching them, he stopped.

Sat down on the edge of his bed.

And looked at his stumps, lost in thought.

His hands, his real hands, were gone.

Forever.

_How could I have been so _stupid_?_

It was something that haunted him even now, the gullibility usually only shown by rubes.

And he, Jimmy had fallen face first right into it.

Out of confusion and desperation.

He raised his head and looked around at the room.

By all appearances, it wasn't much different from the solitary room he'd almost given up in when they had first arrived here from Jupiter.

It was small and square and sparse.

Off white walls, nothing on them.

A window above his double bed, green privacy curtains filtering light through.

The walnut dresser was worn and nicked in places.

The closet didn't hold that many clothes.

He'd never needed that many to begin with.

If he closed the hall door, he would be alone.

And sometimes that was okay.

Because when he opened it, they were there.

Dot and Bette.

With their ready smiles and caring natures and lovely dark eyes.

So he was only alone when he truly wished to be.

This time last year, the gears and traps of their Jupiter catastrophe has just started rolling.

He could have never predicted the horrors and insanities that would follow.

And never could have imagined surviving them.

But he, _they_, had.

And now outside, out there in the world, just today, some of those people had stopped looking at them like unnatural freaks.

They had worked together, side by side.

To restore order to nature's chaos.

They'd been welcomed.

Like people.

Jimmy smiled.

Rose from his reverie.

Put on his wooden hands.

And opened the door.

_I wonder if I missed Jack Benny._

* * *

**Did I getcha with the first part? I hope so because that was soooooo much fun to write!**

**And due to this title, I will be singing 'Winds of Change' by the Scorpions in my head all day long now. 'S okay. Been hearing 'Moves Like Jagger' for the past four. Ha.**

**And I don't really know if the acceptance they experienced here was realistic or not (hence Jimmy thinking he's in a dream). But I really want it to be for them, you know?**

**Thanks to brigid1318, Dinah Ray &amp; her happy day (ha made that rhyme), haily94, Jurana Keri (kudos for thinking of Bette in all this), Mlppace, and the Cry-Wank Kid for taking the time to speak up. **

**Thanks also to r4ulsonfeels for adding your support to this story as well.**


	12. Together

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Together

* * *

Jimmy was kissing Dot.

Or trying to kiss Dot.

To kiss her made him feel good, made him want more.

Kissing her was all he wanted to do.

Well, not _all._

But he couldn't get his mind off Bette.

Sweet, caring Bette.

Who now sat with them in dimly lit room, her head turned away, eyes closed.

While her conjoined twin and her boyfriend (_boyfriend?!_) kissed and nuzzled to their hearts' content.

_How does that make her feel?_

Bored at the very least, he guessed.

Rejected and alone and hurt at the worst.

She didn't deserve that, such a pretty, lovely, sweet girl.

And it was _him_, him and his physical needs, that was doing it to her.

And he didn't want that.

Not when he cared for her so.

He stopped, pulled back.

And looked at her.

Dot was just opening her eyes, aware that he had moved away.

Bette, noticing a sudden negative space in the immediate environment to her right, opened her eyes as well and turned to look at them.

Both of them questioning.

"Jimmy?" Dot reached out a hand to his suddenly dour face. "Is something wrong?"

He rose from the couch and went to the window.

_Something's wrong, sister._

_Well, better go check on him then._

So they went and joined him there.

"Jimmy?"

He seemed thoughtful, pensive.

Then he looked up, dark eyes brooding.

"This isn't right."

Dot thought she knew what he meant but decided to wait him out.

"This isn't fair."

Bette caught up without her sister's help.

And decided to face it head on.

"What is it, Jimmy? Talk to us."

He sighed.

Studied his wooden hands, the floor, the hem of their dress.

Anything to buy a minute.

Then forced himself to look up at them.

"I care about you, Dot."

She smiled gently but didn't speak.

"But Bette is here too. And I care about her too. I don't want to hurt her like this."

Dot's smile grew warmer even as her eyes grew bright. It was Bette who managed to speak.

"I told you before, I can just close my eyes and go away for a while," she insisted, trying to stay calm and even. "Give you two your privacy."

Jimmy thought about that.

Carefully.

Bette was willing to give up her body, her needs, her wants completely for the happiness and fulfillment of her sister.

That was something he could never fathom being able to do so completely for anyone ever.

It would be weird to continue on like this. Strange. Unnatural, if a freak like him could call anything unnatural.

And it seemed to be taking so much potential for love and happiness of her own away from Bette.

But what was the alternative?

Could they make it work? A relationship like that with three separate people all sharing each other?

Could he really make them both feel loved? Both feel valued? Both feel wanted?

Should he even try, a debilitated man with no hands?

He spoke, reaching out and stroking a careful wooden hand through Bette's straight dark hair.

"It doesn't seem very fair to you, Bette. Don't you deserve love too?"

She smiled and he saw that she loved him because he treated her as an individual, as a person. Not just the lopsided sister head of Dorothy Jean Tattler.

"I don't want to stand in the way of my sister's happiness," she replied simply. "Not anymore. Not after all we've suffered and been through together."

Jimmy was starting to get a headache from trying to make sense of it all.

"Dot, how do you feel?"

Dot smiled warmly.

"My sister and I have always shared everything whether we wanted to or not. Now we are happy sharing our life. And our love."

He had a feeling this was very similar to the conversation they'd had in his trailer that fated night before he'd been arrested.

The conversation he'd stumbled through the first time due to being completely plastered drunk.

But now, sober as the day he was born, he absorbed it all.

And had a lot to think about.

A lot.

And he couldn't imagine any big action just now.

So he did the only thing he could.

He took each of their hands in one of his stiff, unfeeling wooden ones.

Raised them to his lips, one at a time.

And kissed them gently.

And they smiled at him with tears of love in their eyes.

Then he bid them goodnight and retired to his room to try (again) to sort it all out.

_I want to be with Bette too. Because I care for her and don't want to hurt her. _

_But how will that make Dot feel?_

_What do I do?_

His dreams were troubled that night.

Trying to care for and love both women.

Dot hating him, thinking he was trying to be a cheating ladies' man.

Bette crying and alone and rejected by her sister.

And him, at fault and failing those important to him all over again.

_But . . . but . . . you both deserve love. _

_I thought it was okay. _

_Because I care._

_I'm always wrong._

_What do I do?_

* * *

When Dot and Bette presented him with a breakfast bowl of oatmeal topped with cinnamon the next morning, Jimmy smiled warmly.

"Thank you."

And didn't touch either of them.

Dot didn't mention it, Bette frowned at his physical rejection of her sister.

But said nothing.

As he headed off to work, they spoke their goodbyes at the door.

"Bring you two anything?"

When they shook their heads, he nodded amicably.

"Okay. See you tonight."

And kissed Dot goodbye.

Then leaned back a little, his question to her in his dark eyes.

Dot's warm smile and little nod answered him with love.

So he turned and cupping her head lightly, affectionately kissed Bette as well, much to her pleased shock.

That day as they went about their daily tasks, their shared happiness and tingly body made the day move much faster. As if in a slightly disorienting dream.

When Jimmy got home, they greeted him warmly and pulled him to his room.

And there in the cool, dim quiet light, Bette and Dot detached his work hooks, wiping them down with soft cloths.

Each lovingly kissed the top of a healed wrist and massaged his aching soreness away.

And listened to him talk about his day as they each carefully attached a wooden lobster claw hand.

And he loved them.

After supper as they took an evening stroll along their street, Dot and Jimmy once more comfortably linked their arms together.

And Bette carried a small bouquet of colorful flowers Jimmy'd shyly presented her with.

When they retired to the couch to watch _The Lone Ranger_, Jimmy joined them there.

He sat with Dot until he took a trip to the kitchen for water.

And when he returned, he seated himself next to Bette.

Tentatively glancing at Dot to see if she took umbrage.

Saw no such evidence.

Because she stubbornly refused to deny her sister the love she so deserved as well.

Knowing he would return to her in time.

* * *

When Dot and Bette lay down in their bed, it was Bette who tentatively started their conversation.

_Well, this was a rather different day._

She could practically _hear_ the smile in her sister's reply

_Yes, it has been._

She waited anxiously for more, but there was none. The sick, tight, angry feeling that had so often accompanied their interactions over the years was nowhere to be found in their conjoined body.

She decided to give it another go.

_Dot, I . . . I don't want you to feel I'm trying to steal your happiness._

A warm rush of emotion from her sister loosened her tensing muscles.

_Sister, no. We should _both_ happy._

_But he was yours to start._

_Perhaps, but we're together, aren't we?_

_Yes._

_Then the only way for both of us to be truly happy is for him to be ours together._

Bette waited, wanting peace between them. Peace to continue now. After so much past strife.

_I told you I could go away and give you two your time and happiness. I meant it._

A soft hand in the darkness, stroking her cheek.

From her gentle sister.

_And that would have caused strain and upset __between us. Enjoy him, Bette. Enjoy him with me. That way we can all be happy. Together._

Bette relented, resolving to remain careful and watchful of her sister's individual wants and needs.

Dot, promising herself that she would be okay and work to make her words truth.

For her dear sister.

That night they fell asleep together.

And nobody was crying or alone.

* * *

Jimmy lay drowsily in his bed attempting to process everything, old and new, that had been going on.

Wondering if he was doing the right thing.

_Is this a good idea?_

_It feels good. It feels more natural. It feels right._

_But is it?_

He yawned heavily.

And had one more thought.

_I am completely in over my head._

Then he fell asleep.

* * *

**Purposefully similar sections here to chapter 10 and that's the point. Hope you understand.**

**And yeah, this is difficult territory we're in. But hey, hopefully you can tell it's a little awkward for them too, right? If you want to help me out, feel free to jump right in. If not, that's cool too. :)**

**Thanks to Dinah Ray for throwing some of these more personal plot bunnies at me. Hope you enjoyed them. **

**Thanks to brigid1318, autumnrose2010, haily94, Jurana Keri, and Dinah Ray for your wonderful reviews. I appreciate you so much. **

**I'll be gone for a bit now. But I promise I will return to the story when I can. **

**Positive waves out to you all, good people and remember to spread them around, too. 'S what we're here for, yeah? :)**


	13. Sweet and Salty

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Sweet and Salty

* * *

Their fenced-in back yard was small and plain.

Thin grass, easily seared in the hot Florida sun.

A single, young, stubbornly thriving, Laurel Oak that had ambitions of one day providing shade to the owners of the house.

It wasn't grand, their little backyard.

But Bette and Dot and Jimmy took no concern of its simplicity and appreciated it nevertheless.

Because it was theirs.

Sometimes the girls enjoyed sun bathing in the privacy of this small place of reprieve.

Being so formerly restricted in their lives, they couldn't quite bring themselves to wear a bikini.

Or a strapless. Or even a halter top.

A simply cut, shoulder strapped, lavender one-piece (with a some slight alterations to accommodate their unique figure, of course) was just fine for them.

They even ventured outside in their bathrobe, only disrobing as they sat on the worn lounge chair.

While Jimmy attempted to be a gentleman and not to gawk at them.

And sometimes it didn't work out so well.

Like the most recent occurrence, for example.

They had fallen asleep in the warmth of the Florida sun while Jimmy was gone to an afternoon shift at the grocery.

And they burned.

Not too badly, just a little.

Everywhere that had not been covered was pink now.

Including their straight, dainty noses.

Which, when he arrived home that evening, made Jimmy offer to help apply some cooling sunburn ointment.

And want to kiss their cute, red skin.

While teasingly singing 'Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer'.

Until they, laughing to spite themselves, snatched up the kitchen broom.

And, wielding it threateningly, chased him from the room.

Before continuing to apply more of lotion to their tender, pinked skin.

* * *

They usually talked inwardly, using their special connection.

But on occasion, spoke to one another aloud.

Such as now.

Wiping up the last of the breakfast preparations.

And arguing.

"It's only been a few _days_, Bette."

"But I just want to soak up the sun for a little while, Dot."

"I don't want to _burn_ anymore, sister."

Jimmy meandered in, filled himself a cup of water amidst this mild disagreement.

And decided to have some fun.

"You could always moonbathe."

They looked at him curiously.

"_Moon_bathe?"

He nodded seriously.

"Yeah, see, the sun's light reflects off the moon, right?"

They nodded.

Common knowledge.

"So when the moon shines that light down, it's cooler than the sunlight."

They glanced at each other skeptically.

"Then you can get a tan without getting burned."

He took another sip of water.

Dot narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"Jimmy, darling, are you pulling our legs?"

He shook his head sincerely.

"Nope. Just trying to help."

And wandered back out of the kitchen.

_Do you think that could really work, sister?_

_Oh, Jimmy wouldn't try to fool us, would he?_

That night as the girls lounged outside in the moonlight, Jimmy stood hidden. Peeking out the back window at them.

Sweet Bette and Dot, adorned in their modest little swimsuit, applying sun tan lotion under the light of the full moon.

Chortling to himself.

_I can't believe they fell for it._

Thirty minutes later . . .

"Jimmy, _darling_!"

_Oh crap._

* * *

Salt. Baking soda. Water.

Jimmy carefully mixed them in a small blue bowl together until he had a gooey, thick, white paste.

It was an old remedy . . .

_Love you, Ma._

. . . that he had long ago learned the value of, being a person living and working frequently outdoors.

He took the bowl with him as he left the kitchen and entered Bette and Dot's bedroom.

They sat reverse in a kitchen chair in the middle of the small, room.

Their back was bare, their front covered with a lime green towel.

And they were very, _very_ unhappy with him.

Their petulant frowns glared right into him as he penitently picked up a washcloth and placed it over his wooden hand.

Dipped it into the bowl.

And dabbed the concoction over the first of the many red, inflamed bug bites covering Bette and Dot's back.

"Oooh, careful!" Bette squealed. "That's cold!"

He flinched, reflexively drawing back a bit.

"Sorry, sorry."

He continued applying the goo to their itches one at a time.

As they diligently refused to speak to him.

For a while at least.

"I can't _believe_ you tricked us like that, Jimmy!"

He drew a sincerely regretful frown across his face.

"I'm sorry, Bette. Dot. It was just a joke. I didn't realize you'd get eaten up so _badly_."

They glowered at him over their shoulders.

He continued his therapy for a while.

Even started humming one of their favorite songs. In an effort to sooth their itching nerves and boiling angers.

It seemed to work, little by little. Almost against their will.

Their body relaxed, frowns softened.

He thought about kissing the backs of their necks to make them feel better.

But worried about getting punched the face for his efforts.

Finally, he decided to use his talented mouth for a more subtle approach.

"If this doesn't help, I've heard we could try rubbing a banana peel on your skin to take away the itching."

The girls jerked up, barely remembering to hold the towel against their bare skin as he tried not to notice their exposed flesh.

"Don't you _dare_ rub a banana peel on us, Jimmy, _darling_!" Dot threatened menacingly.

He thought she was going to smack him after all.

But beautiful Bette changed the entire direction of their conversation with one simple sentence, toned just right.

"_I_ personally wouldn't mind if he rubbed his banana peel on our skin," she quipped suggestively.

To which Jimmy, stunned, dropped the soiled washcloth onto the floor beside them.

_Sister!_

And Dot and Bette giggled together.

Straightening up, Jimmy smiled, hoping he was forgiven.

He was.

* * *

**Just a simple little chapter to get the ball rolling again. Hope you enjoyed. **

**And just realized this chapter title could have been easily be misconstrued. Oops ;)**

**Got about four additional chapters all ready to post for your enjoyment. **

**Thanks so far to DinahRay (&amp; her plot bunnies), brigid1318, JustbyChance, haily94, The Cry-Wank Kid, and autumnrose2010 for your reviews.**

**Thanks also to I'mFreeAsMyHair for adding your support to this growing story as well.**


	14. Convincing

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really love these characters. As if you couldn't tell.

Jimmy, Not Moses

Convincing

* * *

All he wanted to do was kiss her, them.

And feel the warmth and love and need and washings of emotions that flowed through him when he did so.

He couldn't do more.

He _wanted _to, his body _wanted _to.

But he couldn't.

Not with no hands.

Not as less than a man.

Standing in the darkened living room, ready to depart to their own separate sleeping quarters, they had been saying goodnight.

Just a little.

That had been some time ago.

Because they had gotten a little, well, _distracted._

And involved.

And heated.

So when Bette's hand started stealthily creeping from his chest downward, he gently covered it with his own wooden one. Halting its course.

She let him, gliding her hand back up tangle her fingers in his hair.

As Dot sent to tingles and chills all along the sensitive flesh of his neck.

And her hand followed the same path her sister's had a few minutes before.

Jimmy stopped her too and broke contact, moving back a little.

Trying to slow his racing body, his throbbing loins.

And calm his mind.

Dot's eyes, dark and heavy with desire, searched his for understanding.

"It's okay, Jimmy. I want to."

Bette added her encouragement.

"Yes, Jimmy. We want to. We're ready. It's okay. It's good."

He shook his head in shame.

"I want to, believe me. I just don't think I can."

He moved back further, putting a little needed distance between their bodies. One glance at the front of his pants credited his statement as true.

He did want to.

Badly.

But his face was drawn and grim.

"I'm . . . I'm not the man I was."

The girls, those wonderful girls, reached out to him.

Dot cradling his face with her hand, Bette gentling stroking a forearm, thumb caressing the flesh of his inner elbow.

"You don't have to be, Jimmy. Just be the man you are now."

He allowed them to draw him nearer for a moment. Took the opportunity to kiss them each once more.

Chastely.

Then turned away.

"I . . . just don't know how."

And that was that.

* * *

Bette and Dot stood in their room, the golden silk robe tied loosely about them. And even less on underneath than there had been the first time they had contemplated this very action.

_He doesn't think he's a full man anymore._

_And he's more of a man now than he was then._

_But he can't see it._

_I guess we'll just have to convince him then._

They blushed even as the thought of what they were about to do sent shivers throughout their conjoined body.

They had taken this chance before. And been turned away. And it had hurt Dot, and by default, Bette too.

So much.

But maybe this time it would end differently.

Because they all loved each other.

Had been working on a healthy, supportive relationship between the three of them for weeks now.

Bette and Dot, communicating with each other openly, making sure each other was feeling cared for and loved.

And Jimmy, Jimmy, so careful and considerate with their feelings.

Seeming almost scared at times.

But adamant in his desire to treat them both as individuals, as respected _ladies_.

And realizing along the way that he really did love them both for their each individual traits and personalities.

The girls, growing more and more sure of each other's support and their love for him.

So maybe it would work this time, taking this next step.

For all those reasons.

And because this time he truly wanted to.

He just needed a little help, a little _convincing_, that he was the man they wanted, needed.

Desired.

_Go on, sister. Open that door._

Dot bit her lip.

And did.

* * *

Jimmy's room was dark, lit only by the dim light of a streetlight coming in through the window above his bed.

His wooden hands lay side by side on the dresser.

The sleeping man lay curled on his right side, breathing evenly, deeply

When they reached the side of his bed, Dot reached out and touched his arm lightly.

Jimmy stirred and looked up at them.

'Hey, what . . . is something . . . is everything okay?"

They sat themselves on the edge of his bed as he scooted back to allow them room.

"No, everything is not okay," Dot responded gently.

"You don't believe in yourself. You don't believe you can love us like a man," Bette continued.

Jimmy's sleepy dark eyes awoke fully then.

And veiled the truth as best they could.

"And we want to show you you're wrong," Dot concluded. "If you'll let us."

Then she raised his left wrist. Gently kissed the top, avoiding the scarred area itself, knowing sometimes it was deadened to sensation and other times it was oversensitive to direct touch.

"Your stumps and scars don't bother us, Jimmy. They only bother you. We love them because they're a part of you."

His eyes followed her kiss, his heart swelling.

"I don't . . . I don't want to . . ." he forced out his bitter words. ". . . disappoint you."

They stood once more and he gazed up at them.

Knowing what they wanted.

Wanting it himself, so much.

And hesitant to believe he could really be enough.

But wanting to be.

Bette smiled as she slipped the knot from their silken robe, letting it fall to the bedside.

"The only way you will disappoint us is if you don't let us love you the way you _deserve_ to be loved, Jimmy, darling."

And so he let them slip unadorned into his bed and covered them with his sheet.

Their lips each found his in turn as their hands wandered, discovering all the secret delights hidden beneath the sheets and clothing.

He pulled them closer with his forearm, everything in him tensed and relaxed at the same time.

After awhile of this pleasurable, passionately heated interlude, Dot, smiling, pushing him gently onto his back as Bette carefully threw a leg over him.

He gazed up at them, these odd, beautiful women he knew that he loved.

And felt the intense pleasure their body gave him, that he'd been yearning for. And tried to give them the same.

And they found that everyone involved was quite pleased and satisfied.

And not disappointed at all.

* * *

**Big step here. But hey, you knew it was going to happen. The question is, what do you think?**

**T****hanks to brigid1318, Emma, DinahRay, autumn2010, and Jurana Keri for coming back for more. **


	15. The Simple Life

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

The Simple Life

* * *

The spare bedroom of their little bungalow was now set up as a small sewing room.

Bette and Dot's old bed pushed off to the side, seeing as how they spent every night in Jimmy's bed anyway.

Sleeping.

And not sleeping.

The walls of the room were off-white, as were all the others.

With cutouts of dress designs taped upon them.

Natural light flooding in the window cast warm glows upon their faces.

Bette and Dot were working on a new dress.

It was pretty.

Blue and orange.

Jimmy didn't know if it was for them or a neighborhood housewife.

But he liked to watch them work at their treadle sewing machine, joined body perched on the edge of a straight-backed wooden chair.

Him on a cushioned footstool out of the way, leaning comfortably back against the wall.

Their movements awed him, moving in tandem so effortlessly.

Sometimes (less now than before) he felt so clumsy with his metal hooks and wooden hands.

While they, each controlling her own side of their shared body, worked so gracefully, so deftly. So in harmony.

Like now for instance.

Bette pumped the foot pedal at an easy pace, keeping the needle moving at a smooth, working rhythm for them both.

While both she and Dot guided the cloth just so along what he thought was going to be the hem.

They talked to each other some, though Jimmy suspected they communicated more frequently without words.

Sometimes they'd look at him, glance at each other, and smile or giggle . . .

_Wonder what's going on in there?_

. . . and he'd try not to feel self-conscious.

But sometimes, like now, he just enjoyed watching them.

"You girls are pretty good at sewing and making clothes. I'd probably stitch myself up to the machine."

Dot shrugged a little, not taking her eyes off her work.

"Well, to be honest, we really didn't have much of a choice."

Bette cast a sweet grin at him.

"But now it pays off nicely. We can have any fashion we want."

Dot amended the statement slightly.

"Except girdles and the like. We can't manage those."

Bette rolled her eyes.

"What a relief."

Jimmy swigged his Coca Cola thoughtfully.

"You know, Ma heard about this lady once who wore corsets so tight, her husband could put one hand around her entire waist."

Both girls looked over at him, horrified.

He shrugged.

"I just always felt sorry she couldn't have a cheeseburger. It woulda got stuck."

The girls shook their heads in unison. And continued sewing.

As Jimmy, their darling, looked on.

Peaceful and content.

* * *

Jimmy reclined on the living floor during _You Bet Your Life._

With feet in his lap.

Bette and Dot's feet.

He was massaging their soreness away. Using his wooden lobster hands carefully to press on the aches and pains and rub them away.

He was figuring out their feet slowly.

Like he was figuring out the rest of them.

Dot preferred a strong pressure, nearly grinding into her muscles.

He kept thinking he should apologize for hurting her.

But then he'd push on her heel and she'd sigh with contentment at the sensation.

Bette, on the other hand, was _very_ ticklish and got the giggles nearly every time he ran a hand along the middle of her foot from heel to toes.

Which he kept _accidently _forgetting not to do from time to time.

"Jimmy," she'd squeal with laughter. "Stop it!"

And he'd toss her a charming dimpled wink.

"Sorry. Forgot."

She'd narrow up her eyes at him, outwardly disbelieving and secretly pleased.

"You liar."

But she wasn't really mad.

Not really.

* * *

_Scuzeball_.

That's what Dot had thought the first second she laid eyes on the man she now affectionately thought of as 'Our Jimmy'.

He had approached them in the mess tent, amid several of the more disconcerting of the freaks of the show. Even now she shuddered at the thought of the boy who liked to bite the heads off chickens (_though he still shouldn't have died_).

Jimmy, with his duck-tailed blond hair and off white undershirt, had approached and that smoothly introduced himself.

And she'd been repulsed.

By him. By the others. By the crass, earthy sights and smells of such an uncouth, unrestrained environment.

But then he'd smiled.

And winked.

And she'd melted and smiled back, almost against her will.

Bette'd had a different reaction to the lobster clawed man.

_Dreamy_.

She'd been so excited, so overwhelmed with the initial magic of it all. The freak show. Its mystic quality. Its freedom.

She was finally out in the _world_ and now a man, a real live _man, _had been talking to her.

As if she wasn't just a silly sister head.

But a _woman_.

She'd felt instant, very childish, attraction and swoon-like reactions to his easy movements, easy smile.

But he hadn't seemed to notice it.

Jimmy, the first time he'd laid eyes on them had one simple, rather direct thought.

_Whoa. Cool. _

And immediately set about trying to turn those frowns upside down.

Make them feel welcome and at home.

After all, everybody needed a home, didn't they?

And now they did.

Together.

Though he didn't think even the most talented Mystic Miss could have predicted where or when or how they would end up together.

_I mean, it just defies all possibility, doesn't it?_

It really did.

He glanced up from his massage work to see them, Bette and Dot.

Dot, smiling at him.

And Bette, frowning, focused on the latest quiz show question.

Until she glanced down and saw him there.

And spoke lightly.

"Very skilled, our man. Don't you agree, sister?"

Dot blushed a little.

"Yes, you're right, Bette."

But Bette wasn't quite done. Not just yet.

"I wonder what _else_ we can do with those hands?"

And Jimmy felt himself blush as Dot gasped with surprise and the girls commenced to giggle together.

_What indeed?_

* * *

**Another quiet little chapter here. But you know, life is like that sometimes. Quiet happy moments.**

**And if you prefer something a little more _fleshy, _well, I've got that too. ;)**

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumn2010, Jurana Keri, and The Cry-Wank Kid for your gracious reviews.**


	16. Lobster Boy Returns, In The Best Way

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Lobster Boy Returns, In The Best Way

* * *

"I wonder what _else_ we can do with those hands?"

Bette had mischievously said that to him days before as Dot's expression turned to one of amused delight at his reddening face.

And in his shock he had nearly faceplanted the floor.

The vision of what he wanted to do coursing through his mind, making his body tingle and certain parts want to wake up and say hello.

Actually, the thought had reoccured to him from time to inappropriate time ever since he had endured the only slightly muffled reunion of Ms. Desiree Dupree and her seemingly inexhaustible beau, Angus T. Jefferson a year ago.

He'd pushed it away as best he could whenever it'd cropped up because that was ridiculous dreaming.

For a man with no hands.

But time had passed and the man with no hands had done other things he never thought he could do again.

Useful, helpful things.

A job.

Work around the house.

The ability to care for nearly all his own needs, save for shaving.

Hold those beautiful, wonderful women close to him, just love them and care.

And other things too.

Things that felt good.

Really good.

_Physically _good to him.

And the girls, those _women_, who had made that possible, enjoyed those things too.

But he remembered those Tupperware ladies. Their cries of uncontrollable ecstasy. Their contented, satisfied smiles and completely relaxed, satiated bodies afterward.

And he wanted that for his darlings.

So he thought about it.

Feverishly. Desirously.

And, finally, nervously . . .

_But how the _hell_ do I bring up _that_ conversation?_

. . . broached the topic to Dot and Bette, these women whom he trusted and loved so very much.

Hoping not to see revulsion at the notion of his wooden lobster claw hands touching a very private, very _sensitive_ part of their body.

Fearing they would turn away, thinking him a disgusting perv.

But to his surprise . . .

But not entirely, he also remembered quite recently things they had done to him with the same grins on their faces as he'd once felt on his so long ago.

. . . and excitement, they'd blushed.

Giggled.

_Finally!_

_I thought we'd _never_ get the chance._

_Unfair for everyone else to have a turn but us. _

_Especially since we actually love and want him for more than just that._

_Oooh, but that has always been so _interesting _too._

_Thank goodness we already 'spruced up' today. _

_Oh, yes, ma'am._

And eagerly agreed to discuss the topic.

Dot first as Bette cut her eyes curiously at those tantalizing wooden hands.

Tantalizing because they were his.

"Well, I'm certainly _intrigued_ at the prospect."

"Let's see a hand."

He held out the right one, relieved that wooden lobster claw hands were unable to shake.

As much.

"Hmm, nice and smooth."

"No splinters, no digs."

They stroked the unfeeling hand all over, continuing to blush and giggle.

And spoke coyly to each other and him.

"Might have to be a little careful."

"But that's what _practice_ is for, don't you think, sister?"

"Oh most definitely, yes."

Jimmy felt his ears reddening and face breaking into a big dumb grin at the idea they weren't just _accommodating_ his interests. They were genuinely _excited_.

"You may have to keep a cleaning cloth nearby. So the wood doesn't get permanently . . . stained."

"Yes, that might be . . . awkward."

Excited, nervous chuckles all around.

Jimmy couldn't quite believe he was about to try this.

Not after so long.

Not with _these_ hands.

But he'd never been so eager, so _desirous_ to please any females in his entire life.

Not even the ones he'd actually cared about.

And now even more so with these women, these darlings.

But he couldn't just _dive_ in.

He wanted to be absolutely sure that everything was okay first.

Just in case he didn't remember how to do it right.

So they would forgive him if he screwed up.

He cleared his throat, a grown, once worldly man, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"Are you sure you want to try this?"

The girls' eyes positively glowed.

"Yes, we trust you."

Jimmy took a deep breath, excitement and desire racing all through his body.

"Okay."

A sweet, teasing kiss to each, nervousness and lusty hope roiling in the pit of his stomach.

"Lay back and get comfortable."

They did.

"Okay, we're ready."

A deep breath.

_I'm not going to throw up. I'm not going to throw up. _

_And I'm not going to shish-kabob them._

The thought of which brought horrible, shameful, embarrassing visions to his head and he faltered, nearly losing his nerve and running out the door and locking himself in the bathroom.

"Jimmy?"

He blinked out of his absurd, nightmarish daze.

"Yeah?"

Their gazes were warm and loving.

And inviting.

And yearning for his touch.

"We love you, darling."

He smiled in relief.

"I love you two."

"Well then," teasingly, "_show_ us."

_Okay, here goes nothing._

So he did his best.

Carefully, tentatively.

Growing more confident and bold as he warmed up to it and they responded as he had hoped they would.

There were a few slips and misses.

But even a man with perfectly functioning hands might have done that.

He did get his rhythm.

And when he did, it was good one.

A _very _good one.

And at the height of that particular ecstasy he visited upon them, they reached out and pulled him down to them.

And he didn't feel like a carnie Tupperware party whore made to sneak out the back door.

Or a handless, worthless freak.

He felt like a man showing and sharing his love.

Fun and alive and _real_ love.

And he thought he never felt anything so good in all his life.

* * *

**Okay, this is not a weird fetish thing. This is a fun love thing.**

**And I hope it wasn't too much. I didn't intend for it to be. **

**Not only is this interlude sexually gratifying for all of them, I think it also gives Jimmy back a sense of empowerment. You know, a man who's lost something feeling like a complete man again. **

**And plus when he grinned like that in the show (not that I really _saw_, I was studiously observing the wall _behind_ the tv) that big boyish grin was something I thought would be so much better on a guy with somebody he really loved.**

_**And **_**I just have to say, remember the creepy FS intro where the conjoined twins are kissing? Well, in my mind, Dot and Bette aren't like that. During, uh, _coitus, _let's say (thank you, Sheldon Cooper), I believe they are 'with' Jimmy and not each other. That's just sort of a package deal. A delicate line, maybe, but a line there nevertheless. **

**Well, no way around _that _ick factor. But I had to say it since I'm basically writing about the topic anyway.**

**Okay, soapbox done. **

**So thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, haily94, The Cry-Wank Kid, and** **nootril melk hotel for speaking up. **

**And I hope I'm not the only one out there blushing a little. **


	17. Keeping Promises

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Keeping Promises

* * *

Jimmy their darling had that look in his eyes.

That certain look.

That look that meant a certain something.

He'd had that look since before supper.

_Oh, let him look a while longer. Burned food is only erotic afterward on occasion, I think._

Shared giggles and complete agreement.

During the light cleanup that followed.

_But I am _not _cleaning up twice. Remember last week?_

_Yes, I never thought the bathroom was going to be the same again._

During their evening walk.

_You know, there's a little stand of trees over there . . ._

_Sister!_

_What? It's . . . back to nature . . ._

_Oh, yes, with the mosquitos and snakes and poison ivy . . ._

Inner teasing smirk.

_Prude._

Lightly sarcastic reply.

_After what we did to him last night? Um, no, I don't think so._

_Ah, yes, I suppose you're right. It was quite fun though._

A shared smirk. Sidelong look at the man himself trying to avoid said look.

_No, no prudes and no 'nature' either. I do _not_ wish to apply itch cream _there.

Eventually arriving back to their humble abode.

"I just _adore_ watching you put the _key_ in the _lock_, Jimmy, my darling."

Making him fumble the key to the ground. Fondly snickering together at his blushing expression.

_Oh stop it, sister. That's practically cruel._

_You'd think he'd get used to us saying inappropriate things like that by now._

_Well, where would be the fun in _that_?_

Now alone together with their man and his look.

That look that made their shared body tingle and call out to him.

The only problem was there were two of them.

The girls.

And one of them wasn't in the mood for tingles and pleasant downstairs aches.

And one of them was.

_Oh, Dot, you know I love him. And I enjoy him. And I want you to enjoy him. But . . . not tonight, please. I'm so tired I just want to be alone in our body. _

_Sister dear, you know you'll enjoy it when we get going. _

_Maybe, but not tonight. Please._

Inner concern.

_Are we getting sick, Bette?_

_No, I don't think so. Just, not tonight._

_Well, alright._

They watched him smile as he approached them now.

Not just any smile.

_The_ smile.

_But don't you dare say 'headache'. The man deserves better than that._

_Well, what do I say?_

_'Not tonight'. _

_A bit direct, don't you think?_

_Yes, it is. We're not here to play with our dear Jimmy._

_Well, not until we both feel better anyway. _

_Sister!_

_Well, it's true . . ._

Jimmy reached them, wrapped his loving arms around them, and bent in for a kiss.

Dot let him for a moment, savoring his taste. Savoring his touch. Savoring those tingles.

Wanting more.

And remembering the request of her dear sister.

Who shared her body.

She could just ignore her, she knew, let her go away in her mind like she'd said so long ago she would.

She seriously considered it. What with the roaming lips of her man distracting her.

But she'd made a promise. To herself and her sister.

That she would treat her kindly and with respect.

And this was part of that deal.

So she pressed a hand to Jimmy's chest.

And gently pushed back.

He broke contact and looked at them, his dark eyes deep and lustful.

"Not tonight, my sweet Jimmy," she murmured, trying her best to be kind.

He drew back a little, glancing back and forth between them.

Dot could swear she saw a little pout hidden behind those enticing eyes.

And thought it was adorable.

Bette just felt guilty.

But stuck to her guns as a valued member of their special relationship.

"Oh," Jimmy responded, clearly disappointed and trying to man up and hide it. "Are you two . . . okay?"

This caused them both to smile fondly at their considerate, pentup man.

"Yes, we think so, " Dot replied kindly. "Just tired."

Jimmy their darling had recently solved another no-hands problem.

Of pants.

Instead of struggling to button pants with hooks or always being dependent on his darlings . . .

_Even though I really don't mind at all when they play with my pants . . ._

. . . he simply wore them a size bigger than he needed and kept suspenders attached to them.

_Easy up, easy down._

Which really held true for a lot of things regarding his pants region.

Which made him grin.

So now as she rejected his amorous inclinations for the night, Dot tugged on the aforementioned suspenders, snapping them gently back against his white undershirted chest, making him grin again at her playfulness as she continued talking.

"But there's always tomorrow night . . ."

_Right, sister?_

A shared inner smile.

_Right._

"So you just keep all that saved up for us and don't let it go, okay?"

Dot nuzzled up to him for a moment and felt him shiver.

Then pulled back before she became too much of a tease.

To find Jimmy grinning a little, despite being shut down for the night.

"Okay."

He tenderly kissed them each in turn on their foreheads.

And looked around vaguely as if trying to find something else worthy to do with his time.

Turned back to his darlings and shrugged.

"Dragnet?"

Bette and Dot nodded agreeably.

_I love him, dear sister. _

_Me too. _

_And I love you. Thank you. _

_You're welcome, Bette. I love you too._

And the next night, everybody was quite willing and able all over again.

And they had lots of fun.

* * *

**Yep, happens to us all from time to time. Except Rose Nylan apparently. And if you didn't catch _that _Golden Girls reference, boy did _you _miss out on a hilarious bit! **

**Anyway, I know we have been focusing on lots of 'skin fun' so to speak lately but I think there are a lot more elements of complication here (and some of the same) than for a regular couple. I've just been trying to highlight a some of them to show these people really trying to take care of each other (stop _giggling_, brigid1318!) and be considerate of their unique situation.**

**Oh and the original name of this chapter was 'Nope'. Heh heh.**

**And as always, wonderful readers, thank you to brigid1318, DinahRay, haily94, Jurana Keri, and autumnrose2010 for your always gracious reviews. :)**


	18. Machinations of a Mad Man

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Machinations of a Mad Man

* * *

_I can't do this. I just can't._

Jimmy shuffled around aimlessly.

_I must be crazy. _

He didn't even know what room he was in anymore.

_They're never going to go for it. _

He tried to calm down.

_But I _want_ to do it. _

Breathe normally.

_And I _think_ they want to do it. _

He managed to find the bathroom, look in the mirror.

_I wonder if they'll say yes. _

He looked crazy, with wild dark eyes and messy hair.

_But what do I do if they say no?_

Reached into his pocket and hooked out what was inside.

Gazed at it.

It had taken him several, several weeks to save the money for them, inexpensive as they were.

And now that he had them, he was afraid they would be rejected.

And him along with them.

_No reason to think that. Dot and Bette'll say yes._

He looked at himself in the mirror again, desperate and lost.

_Won't they?_

* * *

It took him all night to ask.

They dined on a simple meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, English peas, and rolls.

Milk to drink.

And Jimmy, having had this delicious fare several times before, could not taste it.

He was sure it was good. It always had been.

But it was all he could do not to throw up every bite.

Bette and Dot noticed . . .

_What in the world is wrong with our Jimmy, sister?_

_I just don't know, Dot. _

. . . and tried to pull him out of his odd behavior.

It didn't really work.

Though he did manage to spill a half empty glass of milk right over onto the linoleum floor.

_Thank goodness I only use plastic._

And fumbled his way through cleaning it up.

While continuing to mull over his planned actions like a dog worrying with its favorite bone.

_Why would they even think about saying yes to an idiot who can't even eat supper like a regular person?_

Until Dot and Bette felt frazzled and on edge themselves.

_Oh good grief, sister, did he get fired from his job?_

_I doubt it but he may have killed somebody. _

_Oh surely not. _

And finally they stopped trying to talk and distract him out of his mood and decided to just wait him out and love him.

Until he was ready to talk.

Which seemed to last forever.

* * *

They had just cleaned up from the simple meal gone awry when Jimmy suggested an evening stroll.

"It's, uh, a nice night for it," he stammered.

_Something is definitely going on here, sister._

_Yes, we take a walk almost every night. What's so special about this one?_

_I don't know, but look at him. If we don't go now, he may spontaneously combust. _

So they went.

* * *

They walked the block as usual, waving and speaking to friendly neighbors and nodding cordially to those who inevitably turned their backs on them.

When they got to the end of the block, Jimmy kept walking.

Past the elementary school.

Past the hardware store.

Past the movie theater.

Past the city hall in town square.

_This is the slowest escape plan ever, sister dear. _

_Or he's just working off nervous energy._

_From taking Mrs. Murphy's 'diet' pills. _

_If we walk much further, we may need a taxi to get back._

_Oh good gracious._

Past the ice cream shoppe.

And the grocery store where Jimmy worked.

He didn't really talk, just kept looking around as if he'd never seen this part of town before.

They couldn't figure his intentions or his inner machinations.

He barely could himself.

Because he was still trying to work out what he would say.

And find the nerve to say it.

Finally they arrived at the city park.

Jimmy casually guided them to a solitary gazebo in the middle.

Stars shone overhead.

Cool breezes caressed their faces.

Christmas lights still hung from the gazebo ceiling, painting their faces in quiet flickers of festive reds and blues and greens.

And _still_ Jimmy didn't speak.

He shuffled in his shoes.

Scratched his nose carefully with one hook, the silver glinting in the moon.

Cleared his throat.

And looked at them, dark eyes deep and unreadable.

_Oh dear Lord, sister, he really did kill somebody. _

"Bette . . . Dot . . ." he began, his voice sounding strange and cracked.

Then he stopped and took a deep breath.

_You may be right, dear sister._

Dot reached out a hand.

"Jimmy, _darling_, what is it? Please, talk to us."

And he stilled.

And they waited.

"I love you both," he said, starting stronger this time.

Bette and Dot smiled happily, never tiring of hearing those words from him.

"We love you too, Jimmy."

He took another deep breath, as if preparing himself for battle.

"I've never felt so loved and accepted and happy as I do with you. Not before everything. Not ever."

They started to respond.

But were halted as Jimmy fumbled in his pockets.

And knelt down on one knee before them.

"Dot . . ."

_Oh my goodness, sweet sister! I'm so happy for you!_

"Bette . . ."

_Oh my . . ._

"Will you marry me?"

He held up a small box to them.

And with shaking hands, Bette and Dot Tattler took it.

And found within, two very special silver rings.

Not diamonds, no.

Something better.

Something that _meant_ something.

Something more than money spent.

Hearts.

Each ring adorned with three delicate, silver hearts intertwined.

Just like them.

Dot and Bette felt the moisture of tears upon their faces.

"Yes, Jimmy . . ."

". . . oh yes!"

He felt a huge loosening of anxiety in his chest as Bette and Dot practically glowed with happiness and excitement.

Each put her ring on its assigned finger.

Together took the simple, plain, silver band on its silver chain.

And placed it around his neck, as if blessing a knight.

And finally pulled him to his feet.

Enveloping him in their arms.

And kisses.

* * *

They stayed there under the lights and stars for quite some time.

Basking in the glow of their new happiness.

And each other.

Though Dot couldn't quite contain her mischievous nature entirely.

"You're not going to insist that a stallion expects a certain amount of respect from his mares, are you?" she asked slyly.

Jimmy's face was a picture of shocked appallment as if he'd never heard of anything so idiotic and disgusting in all his life.

"No."

A beat of confused silence.

Finally. . .

"Why the _hell_ would I say that?"

Bette chuckled nastily as her sister made her explanation.

"It's what Dandy said."

Jimmy goggled at them.

"And you didn't kill him immediately?"

They giggled,

"No. we knew the time wasn't right."

He laughed a little too, then grew somber.

"I'm sorry for everything you two suffered with that monster. I should have come for you sooner."

Bette shook her head almost visciously.

"No, Jimmy! Everything is fine. We weren't hurt. It's all over! Don't you dare start looking back in regret again!"

_I'll handle this, dear sister . . ._

"It's all water under the bridge, Jimmy, my darling. And besides . . . you _come_ for us quite enough now."

The innuendo-laden statement flew right over the baffled man's tousled blond hair momentarily before about-facing and whapping him solidly in the back of the head.

She smiled coyly and Bette giggled at her sister as Jimmy's stern face dissolved into a embarrassed a grin and ducked shake of the head.

_There, that worked just fine, didn't it?_

_Well done, sister. Though I must say that was quite crude. _

_Oh, who cares? Look at how amused he looks._

_Well, yes, it is quite adorable._

And eventually, they went home.

The Walker Family.

All together.

All united.

And devoted to one another.

* * *

**Well, only took him a year, huh? ;) **

**Oh and the new story pic is the ring.**

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, haily94, and the1upguy for wandering around in this story with me so far! You guys are the best! :)**

**Our story's not done here because (of course), I still have more to tell. But another little short hiatus for start of summer break (yep, hugged all my little sweet students and sent them _home), _and we'll come back for more if you like :)**


	19. Passing of Time

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Passing of Time

* * *

Time passed both quickly and slowly for Jimmy and Bette and Dot as they built their new life together.

The year of 1953 had been a healing time for them. They had unconsciously shut out the world in order to focus on their own healing.

And as they began to normalize, feel even and continue more confidently on in their existence, the world slowly began to pop up around them again.

There was a lot going on and they wondered how they could have missed any of it.

Bus boycotts and race riots.

_Not too different from the freaks vs the townies, _Jimmy had dryly commented.

Marilyn Monroe was on her third husband, as was Elizabeth Taylor.

_Goodness, what are they thinking?! They're eating up all the men!_ Bette proclaimed.

_Not a problem for us, of course. We only need our one._

_Well, of course._

Disney World in California had opened and a polio vaccine invented.

_Well, who could have thought that up? Amazing!_

_Which one? _

_Both!_

James Dean met his fiery end and Sputnik was launched into outer space.

_I wonder how the dog feels._

_Better than Mr. Dean, I hazard to say._

_Sister! _

_What? _

_It's a tragedy!_

_Well, yes, but he shouldn't have been going so fast. _

_Well . . ._

And of course, the amazing Elsa Mars had launched her new tv show, _The Elsa Mars Hour._

_I'll be damned. She actually made it. _

_Well, bully for her. _

And amid racial tensions and Elvis Presley's swaying pelvis, they all moved on with their lives.

* * *

It was Bette and Dot who had literally pulled their reclusive Jimmy Walker, previously Jimmy Darling, out of his self-imposed isolation and into the world.

But it was Jimmy, their darling, who now ventured out into it more frequently.

He could pass as simply a guy who had endured bad luck and now had a set of hooks to show for it.

He could tell the logging story Bette and Dot had fabricated for him and garner a misty eye or pat on the shoulder from time to time.

But there was simply no explaining away a woman with two heads and one body.

There was no way around it, no easy fix.

They simply were who they were.

And sometimes that caused problems.

And sometimes it didn't.

They were frequently shunned when they went out into the world, whether by pretentiousness or by those who frankly could not process their existence.

Sometimes they were heckled when they ventured further than their humble block.

Things were yelled, things were thrown, things were threatened.

Not always.

But it did happen.

And that was why Bette and Dot took caution.

Not fear, not exactly.

After what they had endured, they could not afford to be stilted by fear and refuse to live.

But if they went out farther than their own neatly kept front yard, they went in the company of Jimmy their darling husband.

Because as brave and happy as they were in their own relationships and interactions, they did not wish to tempt fate of the world that did not know or understand them.

It really didn't bother them much.

They'd always had each other in their little existence.

They appreciated the simple, quiet joys of their life.

Books, music.

Cooking.

Sewing.

Planting and growing lovely, bright flowerbeds in their small yard.

They did go out beyond the boundaries of their rented abode.

Movies, diners.

Sunday picnics in the park.

And of course, grocery shopping.

Loyally patrons of the grocery store where Jimmy worked now as a full time employee.

They were there now, waiting for their order to be filled.

Perusing the latest newspaper headlines.

_Little Rock Schools Desegregated, September 1957._

The Little Rock Nine, as they were called, seemed to be making their way into a world that, by and large, did not want them.

And Bette and Dot, having faced quite enough adversity in their thirty-three years, had no question they would prevail.

_Well, look at that, sister. The world seems to be changing. _

_And for the better hopefully. Everyone deserves to be treated decently._

Someone was watching them.

Bette and Dot glanced around and caught a glimpse of a young, very thin woman glancing quickly down at her belongings as if she hadn't just been staring at the odd women in front of her.

A long-suffering sigh.

_Might take a little longer for us._

_Might._

Their inner considerations were interrupted by a friendly voice.

"Well, _hello_, ladies."

It was Jimmy, with a gleam in his dark eyes and a dimpled smile upon his handsome face.

"Hello, _darling_," Bette smiled.

And the owner and proprietor of the small grocery, the wizened Mr. Dan Clark.

It was Jimmy's day off and he had accompanied Bette and Dot to the store for some basic food staples.

"How are you, sir?" Dot greeted him warmly.

The man with the round eyeglasses and proud square-shouldered stance barely came up to Jimmy's nose.

He smiled easily at them, having adjusted to their startling appearance long ago.

"Oh, doing just fine, just fine, thank you. Much better now I've got somebody around here I can really depend on."

He clapped Jimmy, his full time manager, on the shoulder and the hook handed former carnie practically beamed.

"Care for a sandwich, ladies? I've got some fresh sliced baloney back there in the deli if you like."

Bette looked around.

The woman who had been staring at them was gone.

And the store was quiet for the moment.

"Only if you'll honor us with your company, Mr. Clark," Bette replied lightly.

So the four of them went and had a sandwich.

And chips.

And glass-bottled cokes.

* * *

"Mr. Clark, I hope I'm not being impolite," Dot wavered for a moment then soldiered on. "But how is it that you are so kind to us when so many others turn away?"

The old man fiddled with his shiny wedding band, a sentimental keepsake he wore everyday though his wife of forty years had been gone for ten.

"My dear, I have seen a lot of things in my time on this good Earth. Some of it good and some of not so good. Some of it downright terrible."

He paused for a moment, seeming lost in far-off memories.

"As a God-fearing man, I have to ask you. If I treated you poorly because of how you _looked_, would that speak ill of your character or mine?"

They let the question hang in the air for a long moment, its meaning clearer than a flashing neon sign.

"Yours, I suppose," Dot replied nervously, suddenly painfully aware that she was treading political ground currently volatile in their world today with her husband's boss.

The man nodded grimly.

"Precisely. And I'll not allow the world to make me such."

He winked teasingly at Jimmy.

"Especially not when there is so much beauty here."

And the four of them shared a smile.

* * *

**Okay, so we've skipped about three years and are up to 1957. We're going to stay here for a few chapters because . . .**

**Never mind, you'll get there.**

**And if you were looking for a wedding, well, that will be explained later.**

**Thanks to autumnrose2010, DinahRay, brigid1318, haily94, Justbychance, and Jurana Keri for reviewing so much so frequently. I really appreciate it. :)**

**I hope you enjoy the next little cluster of chapters. Well, 'enjoy' might not always be the word. Well, you'll see.**


	20. Reaching Out

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Reaching Out

* * *

The Walkers had a new family next door.

A man and a woman.

They had moved in a few weeks before and since then seemed more reclusive than Dot and Bette ever considered being.

Well, one of them anyway.

The man, pot-bellied and older than the woman, seemed to have no job and was always seen drunk, walking to and from his destinations.

The wife, the very same rail-thin lady they had seen in the grocery store staring at them, kept to herself.

But they could sometimes hear her quiet backyard sobbing over the paint-worn fence.

They tried to respect her privacy, they really did.

Because she didn't always cry.

But she did frequently enough that it was worrisome.

And eventually, the sisters' gentle, caring natures got the better of them.

And they reached out.

"Are you okay over there? Do you need some help?" Bette called out one day as she and Dot worked in their flower garden.

A quiet gasp, a clatter of something falling.

They thought the unseen woman would disappear into the house without a response.

But she didn't.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright," she responded, her voice quavering and high-pitched.

_She's lying._

_Well, obviously, sister._

"Can we . . . bring you some tea or something?"

A rush of rambled words, trite and hollowly reassuring.

"Oh, no, no. I'm fine. Just . . . stubbed my toe . . ."

And off the disembodied voice fled, back into her little house.

Where all was most definitely not well.

* * *

A few days later, they heard her puttering around again.

And reached out once more.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

They could practically hear her freeze somewhere beyond their sight.

And continued watering the flowers carefully.

Finally, when they thought the solitary woman would remain taciturn, she responded.

"Yes. Your flowers are lovely too."

_Move carefully, sister. She's jumpy as a Junebug._

Bette and Dot rose slowly, turning toward the voice that had spoken.

And saw a face peeking over the fence at them.

It was pale and drawn and fearful, as if poised on the edge of a knife.

They smiled together and Dot spoke.

"Why thank you so much. We appreciate that."

But the talking head was gone. Vanished. As if she had never been.

_Goodness, sister. She is quick. _

* * *

She returned few days later.

Seeming to summon all her timid courage to speak aloud.

"How do you make them bloom so brightly?"

Bette and Dot rose slowly and the shifty blue eyes peering at them wavered, but stayed.

Bette chuckled as Dot replied.

"You know, we're still trying to figure some of that out. They look fine now, but in a few days, they could droop right down again."

Despite herself, the eyes seemed to smile.

"I'm Dot Walker. This is my sister Bette Walker."

The woman looked at each of them shyly before responding.

"Lucy Williams."

_Finally. _

_Thought we were going to have to make up a name._

"It's wonderful to meet you, Lucy," Bette replied warmly.

Awkward silence.

They thought she would disappear again.

Instead, she visibly hesitated.

And stayed.

"Would you like to come over and work with us for a while? It would make the time go by so much easier."

Painful, agonizing silence.

Like the silence of a child who very much wants a piece of candy.

But has been trained to fear it.

Finally . . .

"Maybe just for a minute or two."

* * *

Her brown hair hung straight, lackluster, and lank.

Her hazel eyes might have been lustrous and sparkling but instead they were dull and veiled.

Her hands thin and trembly as she worked in the flowerbed.

And she was covered with poorly concealed bruises.

Bette and Dot made no mention of these concerning things to their anxious guest.

Instead, they made light conversation.

Or attempted to.

"Where are you from, Lucy?"

Sunlight dappled the woman's face, causing her to frown and squint.

"Miami."

"Oh, how wonderful. I've heard it's fantastic down there."

No reply.

"What does your husband do?"

The pale, thin hands faltered momentarily and the woman seemed to duck her head even more.

Then responded in a quiet, well-rehearsed voice.

"He was in the army. Served in the war. Now he's disabled from combat."

_Seems healthy enough to beat his wife black and blue though._

_Indeed, sister._

Suddenly from the direction of the house, a loud, harsh voice bellowed out something slurred and unintelligible.

Lucy's pale skin sallowed even further and she jerked up, her body suddenly tensed and on even higher alert than before.

"Oh, I have to go. Max is home."

And off she scampered like a frightened little squirrel.

Bette and Dot watched her go, twisted with worry and seething with anger at the same time.

_She's our age, Dot._

_Yes, and I can't imagine being afraid of Jimmy like that._

_Neither can I, sister. She's in some bad trouble for sure._

_I wish we could help._

_Me too._

_But I don't know how._

_It'll come to us. We just have to wait it out._

_Not too long though?_

_I hope not._

* * *

"We met the new neighbor today."

Jimmy did not pause in his joyful consumption of a mouthful of juicy meatloaf.

"Oh yeah?"

He did not look up, obviously distracted by the delicious food before him.

"Yes. Her name is Lucy."

Jimmy reached carefully for his glass of whole milk.

"That's nice."

Another bite of buttery mashed potatoes.

"She's our age."

A dip into the minted carrots.

"Oh, good."

Mouth patted down with his napkined hook.

"And she's covered in bruises."

Jimmy stopped.

Looked at them gazing steadily back at him, their faces grim and drawn with concern.

Put down his napkin and fork.

Swallowed his food.

And spoke.

"Tell me more."

* * *

**Oh, look, someone's crying and it's not Jimmy **_**or **_**his darlings! Ha. **

**But they may have a situation on their hands, that's for sure.**

**And for those of you pouters annoyed about the wedding thing (yeah, me too), better go thank brigid1318 ahead of time 'cause she gave me a plot bunny for it! **

**Thanks to Jurana Keri (Google is a wonderful thing, isn't it?), autumnrose2010, brigid1318, Mlppace, and DinahRay for your encouraging reviews! :)**


	21. Echoes of the Past

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Echoes of the Past

* * *

Jimmy ambled down their short driveway carrying a full garbage bag toward the shiny tall cylinder sitting at the curb.

The street was quiet, the afternoon still and cloudless.

To his right came the shuffling figure of Lucy Brown's husband, Max.

Who looked disheveled and three sheets to the wind.

_At only 11 o'clock in the morning?_ Jimmy wondered, glancing at his watch.

Jimmy dumped the garbage, replaced the lid.

And grabbed the newspaper in preparation to head back into the house, the Florida sun warm on his shoulders.

Unfortunately the inebriated Mr. Williams had noticed him too.

And decided to be neighborly.

Sort of.

"Boy, those sure are some shiny hooks you got there. Don't see many fellas with a complete set like that."

Jimmy replied only with a curt nod.

"You know, I heard of a guy over in the eastern part of the state somewhere who had, you know, fused fingers. Like a freak or something."

Jimmy felt a chill run up his spine though he managed to keep his face smooth and impassive as he turned back around.

To face the man tottering right up to him.

"Yeah, he killed these rich ladies at this Tupperware party. Cut 'em up. Threw them in a pool. Then when he got to jail he cut off his hands and escaped."

The man's sour aroma washed over Jimmy and enveloped him in a putrid fog.

"Wow, that's, uh, quite a story," he managed, nearly unable to breathe through the stench.

Sweat trickled down the small of his back as the creep leered at him.

"Yep, they never found him," the guy said, his beady eyes poring drunkenly into his prey. "But they sure fried some poor crazy nut just the same."

Jimmy knew if he edged away, tried to escape the conversation, the guy would think he was suspicious.

And might go after Bette and Dot.

So he planted his feet and held his face still.

As the drunken Max barreled on.

"And you ain't got no hands."

"Doesn't look like it," Jimmy agreed, appearing outwardly calm and feeling inwardly queasy.

The man grinned wickedly now, showing tobacco stained teeth.

"So, you might could be him."

"Might," Jimmy conceded, hoping he still knew how to bald-faced lie to a rube.

_It's not a lie if you believe it._

He'd heard that somewhere.

"The only problem with your story is that I didn't lose my hands in jail," Jimmy informed him coolly.

_Technically true._

"They were cut off by a medical trauma surgeon."

_Partially true._

"See, I used to work up north, logging. And I lost 'em saving a friend from falling timber."

_Bald faced lie. Thank you, Dot and Bette. And now for some emotion._

Jimmy swallowed thickly, allowing his eyes to water up just a little.

"I miss my hands, sure."

_True._

"But my buddy's okay and so it's worth it to know he's alive and well."

_Bald-damn-faced lie._

He sniffed a little. That was a good touch.

"And now I got a good job and can provide for my family. So that's okay too."

_Now bring it on home with a little up and comeuppance._

"At least I can work and take care of my family. Unlike _some_ people," he concluded pointedly.

The idiot's face flushed.

"Why you son of a –"

And he swung drunkenly at Jimmy who stepped back and watched the guy faceplant the ground.

_So that's what that looks like from this end_, Jimmy thought as the guy groaned on the sidewalk. _Man, that's just sad. _

* * *

Bette and Dot were making supper in the kitchen.

And wearing their full apron.

It was especially made for them, by them.

Sky blue with light pink lettering.

_Jimmy's Darlings._

It usually made him smile.

Usually.

Today his face remained solemn as he reflexively patted their back, moving past them to the fridge.

Dot noticed first, as Bette was preoccupied with timing the tenderness of the sizzling steaks.

"What's wrong, Jimmy, my darling?"

He popped the top on the cola and took a swig.

"I've just had a run-in with Lucy's husband. Max. He thinks he knows about me and my hands."

Bette turned at the grim statement, her brow furrowing along with her sister's.

"Jimmy, there's nothing to tell about your hands. Not anymore," Dot insisted.

Jimmy looked at his darlings, his guts sour and worried.

"Just be careful, okay? He's a drunk and dangerous, I think," he cautioned worriedly.

The next day, a baseball bat showed up in their quiet little house.

It lay propped up against the wall next to the fridge.

Though none of them ever played baseball.

* * *

A few days later, Jimmy opened a knock on the front door.

And found a burning brown bag on his front step.

Just as he was raising his foot to stomp on it, a whiff of foulness wafted up and caught his nose.

_Ugh, what the –_

But he knew what it was.

Dot and Bette were in the shower. He had only minutes to spare.

He raced to the kitchen for a glass of water and back again.

Dumping the water on it, he waited a moment more for the licking, stinking flames to subside.

_Stupid kids playing tricks._

Then he saw the block writing on the charring, damp brown material.

It was water-smudged and messily written.

But he could still make it out.

_GET OUT FREAKS_

Jimmy stared fixedly at it.

Then scooped it up into a garbage bag.

Which he deposited into the silver can at the curb.

And went back in the house.

He wiped down his hooks and removed them in favor of his wooden lobster claw hands.

And, forcing himself to breathe deeply and evenly, ventured out into the hall.

Bette and Dot were just coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in their honey silk robe.

Jimmy went to them without a word, wrapped them up in his arms.

And kissed them each gently, sweetly.

They responded to him, smiles adorning their freshly scrubbed faces.

"Everything okay?"

He nodded.

"Yes. I . . . I just . . . love you both so much."

* * *

The next week, Jimmy was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water from the tap when Bette and Dot stormed in from the back yard, their faces both stormy.

He set the cup down and turned to face them.

"Jimmy, someone has thrown mud all over our sheets!" Bette announced, anger discoloring her lovely face into something furious and wretched.

He blinked in confusion.

"And now we're going to have to wash them all over again!" Dot concluded, fury painting her words with something much worse than mud.

He glanced out at the clothesline.

Sure enough, Dot and Bette's fine white sheets were splattered with dark, drying mud.

He went outside and looked around. Nobody was in sight.

And no one to be heard on the other side of the fence either.

Jimmy went and banged on Max Williams' front door.

Nobody answered.

So he gave up and helped the distressed Bette and Dot take down the laundry.

And start again.

* * *

**Catch the Constanza line? Heh heh ;)**

**And I know, I know, why does the drunk idiot have to be smart? Well, I personally knew an guy who stayed smart when he was drunk and it sucked, I tell ya.**

**But there's more of the story left to tell.**

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumn2010, haily94, Justbychance, Midnightrebellion86, Jurana Keri, and The Cry-Wank Kid for kindly reviewing. **

**Thanks also to RandomSecret for adding your support to this rambling tale. :)**


	22. Her Story

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

**(This chapter is rated M just to be safe.)**

Her Story

* * *

"How long have you been married?"

They were sitting together in the living room. Side by side on the couch.

Lucy looked as though she thought she shouldn't ask.

But had tentatively done so anyway.

Dot smiled gently.

"About three years. But we didn't technically get married. Not by a preacher anyway."

Lucy dropped her eyes and they could practically hear her words coming out of her enclosed skull.

_'Living in sin'. _

_Such a black and white view of the world for us. _

_So, let's talk to her. Together._

_Okay._

"Jimmy proposed to us."

"Gave us rings."

They showed her the rings.

She touched them lightly with a gentle finger.

"How pretty."

And almost smiled.

Bette and Dot returned it warmly as they continued.

"His is around his neck."

"But we didn't know of a single preacher who would marry three people together."

"And we doubted the men at the courthouse would either."

"So we just decided we were married and went on."

Lucy seemed to consider this carefully before asking another question.

"Did you miss having a wedding?"

Her words didn't ring as judgmental, only curious.

"No, we had a wedding of sorts once before. To a very bad man."

_Oh, let's skip all the gory Dandy Mott details, dear sister._

_Yes, let's. _

They continued on as if they hadn't just been reminiscing about the murderous, psychotic heir to the Mott Family dynasty.

"We decided having a wedding wasn't near as important as having a marriage."

Lucy was silent for a moment.

Then she lowered her head, as if in shame.

"Max and I got married right before he went off to war. We spent an entire weekend together. Then he left and I stayed."

She fingered the plain gold band on her finger.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this. It's not . . . _pleasant_ conversation," she amended bitterly.

_And just who taught her that baloney?_

_Same people who told her to stay with a man who beats her, I'd guess._

"No, no, please," Bette reached out her hand to the struggling woman. "Go on. Please."

_She needs to say this. She needs to get this out. To somebody._

Lucy drew a deep, shuddering breath.

And did so.

"I didn't really know him well at all. He could have already been this way. But all I saw was a handsome, strong, army man in his uniform. And he was going off to war. It seemed so . . . romantic," she finished helplessly, as if she could hear just how idiotic it sounded spoken aloud.

She paused again, studying an old, twisted scar on her wrist.

"When he came back with shrapnel in his leg, I thought we could still be happy together."

The words seemed to be coming harder for her now.

"He was so . . . angry. So mean. Every little thing seemed to set him off. I could never do anything right by him. And all he ever wanted to do was drink. Which made him worse, meaner."

Her eyes seemed to deaden slightly.

"I always thought the, uh, _intimate_ part of marriage would be nice."

She halted as if it were shameful to voice the words aloud to anyone.

"It was during that weekend we spent together before he left."

Bette and Dot waited.

"But when he came back, it was different. He . . . _hurt_ me. On purpose. Held me down and did things . . . I don't think he was supposed to do. Otherwise, they wouldn't have hurt so _badly_."

Tears glittered on her cheeks.

"I thought . . . I thought having a baby would make him happy. Give him something to be proud of. Give me somebody to love. And who would really love me."

As she began to sniffle, Bette handed her a tissue as Dot held her other hand.

"When I got pregnant, he was very angry. Said we could never afford it. Not with him being 'disabled' and all."

_He's not disabled._

_Hell no, he's not._

But they remained silent and let her talk.

"My grandparents had left me some money so I made do with that to keep food in our mouths. Tried to keep it away from him so he wouldn't spend it on booze."

She was slowly curling in on herself, as if experiencing physical pain.

"When I went into labor, he wouldn't let me go to the hospital. Said they were a bunch of money-robbing quacks. I tried to run out the door but he dragged me to our room and tied me to the bed."

Bette found herself barely able to breathe as Dot repeatedly reminded herself not to crush Lucy's delicate hand in her tightening grip.

"When it hurt so bad, I screamed, he hit me in the face and told me to shut up or the neighbors would show up and see me disgusting and in shame."

She swiped away the tears silently coursing down her pallid face.

"And when I couldn't stop screaming, he put his hands around my throat and strangled me until I passed out."

_Oh, dear _Lord_, sister._

"When I came to, the baby was out. It was a boy. He was dead. He threw him out in the garbage the next day while I was sleeping."

The suffering woman dissolved, crying silently with her head in her hands.

Bette and Dot put their arms around her and held her for an indeterminate amount of time.

Finally the trembling woman pulled away.

"I've never told anyone about that. Not even my parents."

She paused.

"_Especially_ not my parents."

They stayed there together for a moment or two.

Then Lucy murmured even more shocking words.

"I . . . I have to go."

Aghast, Dot and Bette stared at her.

"You can't expect us to let you go back to him after everything you've just told us!"

Dot's voice was more of a gasp of breath than a shout of proclamation.

Their friend looked empty.

Hopeless.

"I have to. It'll be worse if I don't."

And the twins stammered, completely unable to process this impossible situation and any way they could change it for the better.

"If I can get him to eat supper and watching tv quietly, then maybe he'll fall asleep and leave me alone tonight."

They watched her, full of dread for this fragile woman they now considered their friend and loathing for the man who had wrought so much suffering upon her.

_What can we do, sister?_

_Aside from tying her down to keep her here? Nothing. _

_Damn him to hell. _

_Yes. Him._

All they could do was hug her tightly.

And pray for her safety as they watched her go.

When the house was quiet and empty save for them, they let their tears fall.

And held each other.

Eventually they calmed enough to try to think straight.

_We could always get Jimmy to kill him. _

_That's not funny, sister._

_I'm not joking, sister._

* * *

**Just to clarify, I am not this woman. But I do know her and this story is true. Except her baby lived. She got away and eventually remarried a much kinder man. They formed a loving family and the boy ended up being completely brilliant and now is married with his own family.**

**And also to clarify, this really has nothing to do with returning soldiers or their issues. I honor them and their sacrifices for our country. The connection here is purely coincidental. **

**As for my story, what's really going to tie you in a knot is, was the baby stillborn or did the man kill it? Ruminate (thanks, Dandy) on _that_ for a while.**

**And the 'not pleasant conversation'? I actually have a family member who will say that to me even now about my abusive alcoholic now deceased father. *Facepalm***

**Fortunately, I've thrown that crap right out the window. And feel much less isolated and more happy in my own life now, thank you very much. ;)**

**Annnddd, there's the therapy session for the day, ha. **

**Well, anyway, thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, haily94, and The Cry-Wank Kid for your reviews. **

**Four more chapters (already waiting for you) for this little cluster before we move on from this section.**

**And it does get better, I promise.**

**Oh and by the way, this was not the 'wedding' plot bunny I mentioned before. That's still to come.**


	23. Enough is Enough

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Enough is Enough

* * *

Lucy showed up on their doorstep three days later. She had a blackeye and several fresh bruises on her arms.

"I . . . I just couldn't take it anymore! I was going to kill him while he slept. Really kill him. I . . . I . . . "

She stood on their front step, shaking and crying and completely undone.

"I just couldn't take it anymore! I don't care what my parents say! I'd rather live in a refrigerator box than let that drunken bastard hurt me anymore!"

Dot, her face a picture of concern, opened the door wide, gesturing the hysterical woman inside.

"Oh honey, no. Nobody should have to suffer the way you have."

They made her tea and sat at the Formica table together sipping and listening to her tell her ramble and gasp of years and years of abuse and fear.

Stories they had heard before.

And new ones that made them shudder.

When Jimmy came home, tired and hot and sweaty, they were still sitting there, having added muffins to their tea.

Lucy's red-rimmed eyes and Dot's pointed expression told him all he needed to know.

"Well, hello, ladies," he welcomed lightly, kissing both Bette and Dot on their cheeks.

He grabbed a muffin and bit into it, smiling warmly at Lucy, who always seemed to slightly cower in fear in the presence of any man.

"Bette and Dot make the best muffins ever," he informed her. "You gotta help me eat them before I explode."

She returned his smile hesitantly. He did not miss the way she tried to casually cover her bruises with her other hand.

And he didn't mention it either.

'Well, ladies, I'll excuse myself to rinse off,' he stated cordially.

And went to shower.

He was just drying off his hair with the towel when he heard an angry, insistent banging on the front door and a loud voice accompanying it.

He ran out with his damp hair and pants and no shirt to the living room where Bette and Dot stared at the door with strained faces and Lucy stood visibly trembling.

"Open the door, Lucy, you bitch! I know you're in there!"

The voice on the other side was Max Williams and by the slur of partially unintelligible expletives that streamed from his mouth, he was obviously drunk.

Jimmy waved Bette and Dot to escort Lucy into the extra bedroom and mimed making a phone call. They nodded, moving quick. Bette grabbed the table phone with its long wall cord while Dot kept a firm but gentle hand on Lucy's unbruised arm.

Too late, Jimmy realized he had left his hands on the bed and that he would be answering the door unarmed. Or rather, unhanded.

Still, the door was going to come off its hinges if Jimmy didn't open it. And soon.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed down on the specially installed latch with one wrist.

And there he was, staggering drunk and reeking to high heaven.

Max Williams.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed in Jimmy's face, effectively enveloping him in a cloud of putrid liquor breath.

Jimmy coughed a bit and held the door solid with his foot.

"Go home and sleep it off, Max," he directed calmly. "You're drunk."

The man shook his head, teetering slightly.

"No, I want my wife! Where is she?!"

The staggering man attempted to push past Jimmy into the house but Jimmy held him off fairly easily.

Unfortunately he had to use his elbow to do it.

And the idiot saw his stump. Or probably a few, considering how inebriated he was.

"Whoooo, look at that! Oh, that is _disgusting_!" He crowed. "How do those two headed freak _whores_ let you touch 'em with that thing?!'

Jimmy's temper flared.

"Don't _talk_ about those women that way! Don't talk about 'em at _all_!"

_I could punch him in the throat with my stump._

Deranged glee painted the cruel man's face, knowing he'd rised Jimmy's hackles.

"What, _those_ ugly monsters? Just how many pink canoes does a _freak_ like that have?"

_Drag him inside, finish him off in the kitchen where the linoleum cleans up nice._

"If you kiss one, does the other one get wet?"

Saliva shone on the man's chin and his unfocused eyes bore into Jimmy's face.

_Bury him in the backyard, plant a flower bed over him._

"Or do they need two men to really get the job done?"

The unsteady sod mimed a crude gesture and Jimmy clenched his jaw tightly.

_Dot and Bette would forgive me. They have before._

As Jimmy was contemplating this course of action, red and blue lights flashed in his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

The drunken bastard in his doorway attempted to turn and nearly fell face first off the narrow step.

Two uniformed police officers were approaching across the lawn, hands casually atop their billyclubs.

They took in the swaying drunk then shifted their focus to Jimmy, still blocking his front entranceway.

"Sir? Is there a problem here?"

_Never talk to the cops, never talk to the cops, never talk to the cops . . ._

"Yes. This man is drunk and threatening me and my family."

The man in question immediately attempted to defend himself.

"What? That's not true! They stole my wife! I was only coming to get her back!"

Jimmy felt the air move behind him.

It was Lucy, trembling and pale-faced. She looked as though she were going to faint. But her eyes were set and her voice easily heard over the sputtering of her drunken husband.

"Nobody stole me. I ran away from him. He beats me and I want to press charges."

Then she showed them her arm. And her knocked out side teeth.

And the cigarette burns.

And the bite marks.

* * *

After the police stowed Mad Max safely away in their vehicle, they apologized to Jimmy . . .

_Am I being shown real respect by these guys?_

. . . and requested that he and Lucy make reports at the police station the following day.

He wanted to hate them for what happened to Meep. But these weren't the same guys and he couldn't blame them.

Those guys were on the other side of the state.

And these guys were trying to help his wives' friend.

So he agreed to meet them in the morning, thanked them, and closed the door.

Lucy sagged, all her reserve of strength gone. She hugged herself and leaned back against the wall.

Bette and Dot, looking relieved, immediately reached out for her and in a walking hug, led her to the couch.

The woman seemed to sink gratefully into it and Jimmy disappeared into the bedroom for a shirt so as not to embarrass her.

When he returned, Lucy was drying her eyes and attempting to collect herself.

'Well, Lucy, looks like you're going to be staying with us for a while," the now shirted, handed man of the house announced in a friendly tone.

Bette and Dot smiled.

Lucy stammered frantically, "Oh, no, I couldn't impose like that."

Dot reached out and smoothed Lucy's hair as if she were a child.

"We wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

And then the three of them rose and headed to the spare bedroom to air out the mattress and sheets.

Right before they passed through the door, Dot looked back at Jimmy.

_We love you_.

He smiled.

_I love you two._

And her dark eyes glimmered with proud, happy tears.

* * *

**What? Not violent enough for Max? Well, I didn't say I was done! And come on, aren't you proud of Jimmy for being a big, mature man? ;)**

**Thanks to brigid1318, Jurana Keri, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86 for such emphatic reviews. Let's get 'em!**

**I'd say Ms. Lucy deserves some grace and healing, don't you?**


	24. Exorcism Begins

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Exorcism Begins

* * *

The following morning after a light breakfast of eggs and toast, Jimmy and Lucy drove to the police station to make their report.

It was discussed that Bette and Dot should go for Lucy's moral support.

But ultimately decided that the officers might become a little distracted by their unique appearance and not give their full attention to the woman of importance and her bastard of a husband.

"_Ex_," Lucy timidly but adamantly asserted. "_Ex_-husband."

Which made them all quite happy.

Hugs and well-wishes all around.

And then Bette and Dot were left to wait.

After an entire five minutes, Bette's patience ran right out.

_I just cannot do this, sister. Wait here like a lump, knowing how scared and alone she must feel._

_I agree, but what can we do?_

After several fruitless attempts at gardening, cleaning, and reading, they finally found they found a task they thought would serve to be of good use.

They made a 'freedom' cake.

A strawberry layer cake.

It smelled wonderful.

It looked amazing.

And they knew for a fact that Lucy loved strawberries and never got to eat them because the now jailed Max was allergic to them.

So it was perfect.

_Maybe we should send him one to 'celebrate' his incarceration. _

A shared evil chuckle.

_Sister, I wouldn't bother to waste the flour._

A smirk.

_Good point._

When Jimmy and Lucy returned in a few hours' time, Bette and Dot patiently listened to their retelling of their trip to the police station.

Jimmy and Lucy had both been treated well by the authorities.

And due to their efforts, Max Williams remained incarcerated for the time being on charges of severe spousal abuse and endangerment.

When the story was concluded, Bette and Dot excitedly presented the cake.

And the weary Lucy burst into unexpected tears.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Bette began, alarmed that she had done something, said something.

But Lucy waved her away.

"No, it's wonderful! I love it! You've just been so nice and without you, I never would have been able to . . ."

She didn't finish the sentence. And didn't need to either.

Her friends waited patiently.

After a few minutes, she dried up her tears and requested they all enjoy a slice together.

They ate with relish and abandon.

Jimmy even raising a bite of cake in a toast to the currently incarcerated Max.

That both referred to the enormous size of his lower sphincter and his unfortunate status as an unloved, fatherless cur.

And concluded grandly with 'may he rot in jail'.

Which even more shockingly, made Lucy drop her fork and burst not into tears, but into a fit of giggles.

* * *

Afterward, Jimmy took a shortened afternoon shift at the grocery, having explained the situation to his boss.

And Lucy nervously stated that she needed to go home and get a change or two of clothes.

"If you wouldn't mind me staying another night or two," she fearfully inquired.

The ladies of the house hugged her fiercely.

"Of course not, dear. You heard Jimmy last night. We _want_ you to stay."

"And we'll even go with you to the house," Bette concluded.

Lucy seemed to hesitate, wanting to argue against the latter.

Then she simply closed her mouth and nodded.

* * *

The house was plain and simple, its floorplan a carbon copy of the Walker's.

Except where the Walker house held warmth and welcome for its guests, the Williams house held foreboding and coldness.

Where the Walker house smelled of cleanliness and good food, the Williams house reeked heavily of soured beer and stale cigarettes.

Where the Walker house walls were simply decorated with a few pictures and decorated needlepoints, the Williams house walls were decorated with broken plaster and odd stainings.

The bathroom door and the bedroom door frames of the dour abode were cracked and the doors were incapable of closing properly.

Or locking.

In the bathroom closet of the Walker house, there were towels, washcloths, and other toiletry sundries.

In the bathroom closet of the Williams house, there was an overfull garbage bag of old beer cans. And stacks and stacks of pornographic magazines.

Bette and Dot saw much of this but not all. The magazines and beer cans for instance, they would only discover later.

They were too busy at the moment being as comforting as they could to their distraught friend.

Who was slowly coming unglued.

From the time she stepped into the house and began jerkily stuffing items into an overnight bag in a most unladylike manner, Lucy's fragile levity began to deteriorate.

As if the house itself were consuming her.

_She's thinking of all the times he hurt her here. _

_And all the times she let him. _

They spent less than ten minutes there but it felt like an eternity.

And when they left, Lucy was visibly pale and shaking.

When they got home, Bette and Dot persuaded their distraught friend to sit in the backyard in the sun.

"I'm sorry," she stammered pitifully. "It . . . I . . ."

Bette patted her hand compassionately.

Dot spoke.

"No, sweetie. Don't apologize. It makes sense. It's okay."

They sat for a few minutes in the warm afternoon.

"Can you move to another house?"

Lucy shook her head, lower lip trembling.

"No, I can't for at least five months. We've only been here a month. Max got a good deal with the landlord. I'm stuck."

They looked at each other, helpless for a moment.

_A houseguest for five months._

_We could do that._

_Yes, we could._

_Or, more positive for her . . ._

"We could fix it up," Dot suddenly suggested. "Make it yours instead of his."

And Lucy looked at them in wonder.

And budding hope.

* * *

First, they talked to Jimmy their darling.

Who thought the idea was excellent as well.

He conferred to Mr. Clark, who set him up with his son, Thomas.

A friendly, fortyish man who came to the Williams' house and showed Jimmy how to patch the holes in the walls.

And fix the doors through which the enraged Max had barreled to teach his misbehaving wife a thing or two from time to time.

They fixed everything broken, battered, and busted.

One at a time.

Until Jimmy was felt he was nearly an expert as well.

_Look, now I can fix carnie stuff and townie stuff. _

The four of them went to the hardware store together and chose new paint.

Off white for the living room, bathroom, and spare bedroom.

Light blue for the master bedroom.

And a soft yellow for the kitchen.

"But what if the landlord doesn't like it?" Lucy fretted.

"Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Bette declared mischievously. "And besides, it's lovely."

And they giggled together.

They spent the week painting (learning _how_ to paint from Mr. Clark's most helpful son) and pretending they all weren't getting slightly high from the paint fumes.

Which was really quite fun too.

They cleaned out all Max's garbage, unceremoniously dumping it in the can and even borrowing a truck from the most helpful son of Clark to rid themselves of the excess waste.

The carpets were cleaned and scrubbed and every surface expunged of the essence of the injurious Max Williams.

As the paint dried in each room, they replaced the furniture.

First sanding and then resurfacing the dresser and bedside tables to Lucy's liking.

Bleaching the living daylights out of the tobacco stained lampshades and polishing up the stands.

When they got to the double bed, Jimmy helped them drag the mattress and boxspring out of the house to air in the sun.

They generously doused it with stench eliminating chemicals.

And when Lucy began clenching up again at the sight of the stained sheets which she had once been so victimized so often, they took those outside as well.

And burned them in a demon cleansing fit of freedom, along with Max's bedroom pillow.

And provided an extra set of sheets for Lucy until she could procure some for herself.

After maturely refraining from dancing around the smoky flames like the wild witches and warlocks of olden stories.

* * *

**So, how did you enjoy Jimmy's toast? ;)**

**Would the authorities have responded this way in '50s? That's unclear, honestly. Perceptions were different back then. People more likely to look the other way, so to speak. But this is my story and, by god, I say the monster stays in jail. At least until the next chapter. Oops, spoilers! ;)**

**It's just writing (righting) the wrongs in so many ways. :)**

**So, thanks to midnightrebellion86, DinahRay, brigid1318, Jurana Keri, haily94, and the Cry-Wank Kid for surviving the last few very dark chapters (well, maybe the drunk idiot nearly faceplanting was funny). Things are about to start getting a little lighter here, have no fear. **


	25. Freeing the Trapped Soul

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Freeing the Trapped Soul

* * *

When they began to replace the furniture pieces into their assigned rooms, Lucy immediately began putting everything back into its original places.

Until Bette stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Lucy . . . where do _you_ want to put them?"

That question seemed to mystify the healing woman.

As if no one had ever bothered to ask her something like that before.

"Well," she began, sounding once more robotic, much like she had before when she had been well-trained by her husband as to his employment status. "My mother always said . . ."

Dot stamped her foot and the twins both placed their fists testily on their hips.

"To _hell_ with your mother who wouldn't even care for her own daughter when she needed her! Where do _you_ want the bed?"

Lucy's face colored and she chewed the inside of her lower lip before smiling happily.

"In the corner. It's . . . cozy there."

Bette and Dot nodded satisfactorily at the assertion.

Jimmy poked his head through the open bedroom door.

"Heyyy," he ventured, having been alerted by the raised voices. "Everything okay?"

The three women turned to him, one shyly smiling and the other two full of righteous fire.

"Yes!" declared Bette with a flair. "We are putting the bed in the _corner_!"

Jimmy looked slightly lost for a second then shrugged.

"Uh, okay."

And disappeared once more from sight.

When they were done, the bedroom was a quiet, soothing haven for Lucy.

Whose glowing countenance made it clear she was thrilled by the changes taking place in this once oppressive, miserable space.

The spare bedroom was left mostly bare, cleaned out of Max's junk and refuse.

"I might use it for . . ." Lucy dared hesitantly.

Then she blushed and would speak of it no more.

The living room was cleaned and exorcised much as the bedroom had been.

And as Jimmy was pushing the newly cleaned couch back into from its airing out time in the backyard, Bette asked the predictable question.

"Where do you want it?"

As much as she seemed to be beginning to feel better, Lucy still wasn't entirely free of her learned responses.

"Well, Max said it belonged . . ."

Dot tilted her head.

"Lucyyy . . ."

Who ducked her head for a moment. Then once again smiled at them shyly.

"Over by the window so I can take naps in the sun."

Jimmy grinned.

"Perfect."

And it was.

* * *

One day the week after Lucy's surprised freedom, a police officer came knocking at her door as they were painting finishing touches in the sky blue bedroom.

Lucy opened it and paled immediately.

"Mrs. Williams?"

Her hand clenched the doorknob.

"Ye-e-s?" she stammered.

Dot and Bette, her emotional guardian angels suddenly appeared behind her and rubbed her back as they stood protectively behind her.

Jimmy, appeared as well, his white undershirt spattered with blue paint.

This distracted the officer somewhat.

"Uh, sir, what is that on your shirt?"

Jimmy looked down and back up with aplomb.

"Paint."

The officer shifted, still peering.

"And what have you been doing?"

Jimmy raised one eyebrow, just a little.

"Painting."

Before Bette could release a fit of giggles at the absurdity of that exchange, Dot spoke up to redirect the exchange.

"What can we do for you, Officer?"

The grey eyed uniformed man shifted back to the women and seemed to regain his focus.

"Oh, yes. I apologize, ma'am."

Then he returned to Lucy.

"Mrs. Williams, I apologize but I'm here with unfortunate news regarding your husband."

_Ex._

_Shush, Bette._

"Yes, sir?"

Lucy wrapped her suddenly weak arms around herself and seemed ready to be blown away by the slightest breeze.

The officer took a deep breath and continued on.

"Mr. Williams was involved an altercation with another inmate and suffered a severe heart attack. He received aid from emergency response but he did not revive. He's dead, ma'am."

Lucy blinked slowly, as if swimming through a dream.

"We can release his body to you for burial. Or we can have him buried on the grounds."

Long moments passed.

Lucy did not move. But she did finally speak.

Low and firm.

"You bury him."

The officer nodded.

"Understood. We, uh, also have his items that were with him when he was brought in."

As the three Walkers looked on in mute shock, Lucy spoke again.

Calmly.

In the same tone.

"Keep it. Distribute it. Throw it away. Burn it."

The officer looked slightly surprised by her admonition but chose not to comment on it.

"You may, of course, press charges against the other inmate for his involvement."

_Hell, no._

_Give that man a medal!_

_I'd like to shake his hand. Wait, I don't have hands. Meh._

"No, sir. Let it be."

The officer nodded, his face a professionally blank slate.

"Yes, ma'am. Uh, there is some paperwork to be filled out of course. Consent of release and such. Would you come to the station, please?"

Lucy nodded without any facial expression whatsoever.

"Yes. I'll come tomorrow."

The officer nodded a final time, apologized for again for his unfortunate news, and took his leave.

Lucy shut the door and on the numb legs, moved to the couch where she sat.

Bette and Dot joined her and Jimmy took an armchair, choosing as always to keep his distance from Lucy.

Lest she might find a man with smile dimples and no real hands intimidating.

Lucy put her face in her hands, drawing deep, careful breaths.

Her friends waited.

And finally they heard a sound.

A sound of emotion.

Giggles.

Laughter.

Lucy Williams was laughing.

Really, really laughing.

And she simply could not stop.

* * *

Lucy signed the papers, went through the necessary motions to rid herself as easily and quickly of her formerly abusive, currently dead, husband as quickly as possible.

She did not attend his burial.

But instead returned to working on her little bachelorette pad with her newfound, God-sent friends.

By the time they were done, it was like an entirely new place.

Warm. Welcoming. Happy.

They even found Lucy early one morning joyfully painting trails of strawberries and their curling vines on the cabinets of the kitchen.

"Oh, Lucy, these are beautiful!" Bette breathed. "They look so real! I can even see the seeds!"

The brightening woman blushed prettily and murmured a thanks.

"Lucy," Dot edged curiously. "Is this what you are saving the spare room for?"

They got no verbal reply, only a happy smile.

_Well, that solves the Christmas gift problem._

_It most certainly does, sister._

* * *

It took the better part of two weeks to completely expunge the little house from the essence of the of the deceased Max.

And when it was done, they walked from room to room, admiring the fruits of their hard work.

Each room was bright and clean. Fresh smelling.

Each one containing a simple vase of lovely flowers, never in danger of being snatched up and thrown at a cowering spouse by a raging drunk.

It was a neat, soothing sanctuary of a home now, something its current owner had not had the pleasure of experiencing in over a decade.

"Better?" They asked the glowing Lucy.

In response, she hugged and kissed their cheeks, each in turn.

Even Jimmy.

"Thank you so much for this! I feel like I can . . . breathe again."

And she began to.

* * *

They went out for a celebratory dinner of cheeseburgers and fries and cokes that night.

At the diner, Bette nudged Lucy conspiratorially.

"I think you have a secret admirer," she whispered.

Lucy did.

A handsome man about their age, sitting by himself with a Salisbury steak dinner.

Lucy looked away and focused herself on her friends for the reminder of the meal.

And when time came to pay the check, they were informed by their waitress that it was already taken care of.

By another patron of the diner.

Who still sat, studiously toying with his iced tea.

Jimmy and Bette and Dot turned expectantly to Lucy, the bringer of the evening's good fortune.

Looking pale and anxious.

Before drawing in her breath.

Rising.

She went alone to the man and her compatriots could see that she was thanking him for his kindness.

And gently deferring his invitation for an evening stroll.

Even as he munificently invited her friends along as well.

The man's disappoint was evident though he remained a complete gentleman.

And made his disheartened way out of the door and into the cooling night air.

When Lucy returned to her friends, they patiently impatiently waited for her explanation.

She looked at them and replied simply with gentleness and confidence.

"I think I'd rather just be by myself and my friends for a while. After that, we'll see."

_Probably wise. _

_I agree._

"Good for you," Jimmy said casually. "Somebody else will be lucky when it's time."

And Lucy happily ducked her head and smiled.

* * *

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, and midnightrebellion87 for your awesome reviews!**

**Thanks also to smashley007, dreenalyze, and Applauze for adding your support to this story as well. **

**One more chapter in this section, I think. See you tomorrow!**


	26. Oh Come, All Ye Faithful

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Oh Come, All Ye Faithful

* * *

Previous Christmases had been quiet, joyful events shared among Jimmy, Bette, and Dot.

The Yuletide of 1957 was as well.

With a few slight changes.

Instead of it just being the three of them, they now had a friend to add to their simple festivities.

Lucy Williams.

Barrett now, having quite happily reclaimed her maiden name.

Who had recently painted strawberries on her mailbox after leasing the house for another six months.

And proudly worked as the primary school librarian.

Adored by all the children for her soft, kind voice, sparkling eyes, and lilting laughter.

Her bruises had faded and healed.

She held her head higher, dared to look into others' eyes more frequently.

After being captivated by the young, doe-eyed Audrey Hepburn, she had timidly requested Bette and Dot cut her hair in the same pixie style.

Although not the current trend for the typical lady, it certainly complimented her narrow face and gave a slender beauty rather than blunt appearance.

All three women were quite pleased with the result.

Jimmy even took to calling her 'The Lady Lucy" until Bette threatened to box his ears to make him stop.

* * *

And so it was that on Christmas day, they joined together in the Walker house to enjoy each other's company.

And a small Christmas feast.

And afterward, open presents.

Art supplies in a sturdy, delicately carved, cedar box.

"Oh! How wonderful! I love it! And so many!"

"Well, you've got a lot of painting to catch up on, honey."

A pair of bright rainbow suspenders.

"I don't think the brown ones you have really show off your character. These do."

"Thanks. Now I'm a clown."

Lacey, white headbows, one for each twin.

"Lovely! Thank you."

"Wear them tonight when you come to my house, okay?"

_Strange request. _

_Yes. But doable. _

A glance at the clock on the wall from the Lady Lucy.

"Oh, I have to go! See you tonight? Seven o' clock?"

Nods from her befuddled hosts.

"Good! Dress nice. And come hungry."

Then she was gone.

Jimmy turned to his darlings.

"Did . . . did she just look . . . _mischievous_?"

They looked as mystified as he felt.

"Yes."

A curious gaze at the door through which an obviously excited and curious Lucy had just flitted away on mysterious erands.

"Huh."

* * *

Dusk had fallen.

And yet there was a strange light coming from the backyard of Lucy Barrett's humble abode.

Which Jimmy, Bette, and Dot forgot to be curious about once they entered Ms. Barrett's living room.

Because Dan Clark and his son Thomas, both of whom in no way resembled Max Williams, were there.

In their Sunday best.

As was Lucy.

All positively beaming.

And the Walker trio felt suspicious.

Bette and Dot wore their white headbands, as per request.

And a soft blue dress to compliment.

Jimmy, on the other hand, wore casual pants and a button-up two tone shirt that Bette and Dot had bought him for Christmas.

If he left the top two buttons undone, he could still dress himself quite nicely.

And so they, with a smirk, informed him, that they could still play with his clothes a bit before work.

So he had acquiesced and began overcoming his unease of buttoned clothing.

Now they stood, taken quite unawares by some sort of occasion they were sure they hadn't been informed of.

And everyone else had.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Dot inquired, still holding onto Jimmy's hand.

And the three before them grinned.

* * *

"Oh my . . ." Bette murmured.

But Jimmy and Dot remained speechless.

Lucy's backyard was aglow.

And now they could see why.

Strings of soft white lights hung all around the yard.

And in the middle was an arch.

Simply wrought of iron and draped with white cloth.

White lilies with yellow centers tied atop and along the sides perfectly accented the quixotic aura of the wedding trellis.

A white cloth ran the length from the small patio area out to the trellis.

It was beautiful.

A picnic table large enough to comfortably accommodate the five of them sat off to one side.

A white tablecloth and candles atop it.

Set with china plates, silver-rimmed cups, and silver-plated dinnerware.

A bucket of ice chilling their champagne until the appropriate time.

"This is my _real_ Christmas gift to you!" Lucy gushed excitedly. "A wedding!"

And expectantly held out her hand.

Bette and Dot blushed and removed their wedding rings.

Lucy bequeathed them to Thomas and bravely retrieved Jimmy's wedding ring on its chain from around his neck.

"I don't believe I've told you that I had aspirations of being a minister in my early years," Mr. Clark informed Jimmy.

The wooden-handed man shook his head numbly.

"Yep," declared the aged man happily. "Even ordained. Preached a bit and ran the store too."

Jimmy didn't know what to say.

"So if you had dawdled a little more instead of working so hard all the time," Mr. Clark teased with a wink. "You might've known there was a minister available to marry you to your ladies all along."

Jimmy couldn't do anything more than stare.

"My son here will be most happy to stand for you as best man. If you'll have him."

A warm smile from the quiet Thomas.

And another dazed nod from the stunned Jimmy.

"Good."

A pause.

"You alright, son?"

A third disoriented nod.

"You _want_ to get married?"

Jimmy finally found his voice.

"Yeah, of course. I just . . . never thought . . . we could be . . ."

The old man put a hand on his shoulder.

"Treated as normal?"

Jimmy nodded a fourth time, feeling like he was in a dream.

The old man huffed.

"Son, normal people are _boring_. They're full of themselves and can't see past their own noses. You, you're different. You and your ladies. But that's not a bad thing. Look at the good you've done for that young woman over there. You've given her a new lease on life. Normal people might've turned the other way. But not you. You and your ladies saved her. She just wanted to return the favor in some small way."

Quite the speech.

Jimmy refused to cry like a baby.

"Thank you, sir."

The old man clapped him on the back.

"My pleasure, Jimmy. I'm just glad to get to be a part of it."

Jimmy turned to see Bette and Dot and Lucy with their heads together, engaged in excited, giggling discussion.

Dan Clark gestured over toward Lucy's house.

"Now, I got a marriage certificate in there. Two of them, in fact. Thought you might want to keep them as momentos."

Jimmy smiled.

_Marriage certificates. Wow._

He nodded a fifth time, his head beginning to feel like a plastic hula doll on a dashboard.

The old man laughed at his bewildered expression.

"Yeah, pretty much the way I felt on my wedding day and I knew it was coming. You'll get over it. Just keep breathing."

Then he nodded in the direction Clark Jr and headed toward the trellis, guiding the stupified Jimmy along.

"Come on, son. Time to get married."

* * *

**Now _that's_ a Christmas present, right?**

**Thanks to brigid1318, midnightrebellion86,DinahRay, and autumnrose2010 for your loyal reviews. So very gracious of you :)**

**Okay, okay, I lied. Now there's one more chapter in this section. I broke this into a two-parter. **

**See you tomorrow. :)**


	27. Joyful and Truimphant

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Joyful and Triumphant

* * *

They stood under the softly glowing arch.

Jimmy, a white rose pinned to his shirt seconds before by a giddy Lucy.

Thomas, the image of a more approachable Montgomery Clift, standing in support next to him.

Lucy across as proud Maiden of Honor for her two wonderful friends.

And Dan Clark, grocery store owner and reinstituted minister, holding a Bible and wearing a fatherly smile upon his aged face.

All gazing at the lovely visage of Bette and Dot walking the short distance toward them to the sound of the 'Wedding March' being played on a record player cleverly hidden by the lily adorned metal arch.

_Sister, I can't believe this is really happening. _

_Neither can I, Dot. _

_We were fine without this. _

_Yes. But I love it._

_Me too. It's more than we could have asked for. _

_But everything we deserve. _

_Yes, I can agree to that, Bette._

_Look at our Jimmy. He looks so handsome. _

_And proud. He's even got his wooden lobster claws on. _

_He's come so far, sister. _

_Yes. So have we. _

_Yes. _

_I love you, Bette. _

_I love you too, Dot._

* * *

Jimmy, his entire face a big, happy grin, watched them. His darlings.

Walking toward him, their countenances appearing beatific to him.

Together holding the white lily bridal bouquet Lucy had presented them with moments before.

They glowed.

They floated.

They shimmered.

Because the tears in their eyes were mirrored by his.

Which they refused to let fall.

At least for now.

_I love them both. _

_I love them all._

* * *

"Who, in blessing, gives this woman, Dot, away to be married?"

"I, her sister, do."

"And who, in blessing, gives this woman, Bette, away to be married?"

"I, her sister, do."

Shared smiles all around at the twins' proud unity.

"Very good."

A meaningful pause.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . ."

* * *

The ceremony was simple.

No one protested the union.

Jimmy exchanged the traditional vows with each of his darlings in turn.

Bette and Dot assisted in the placing of their rings.

And replaced his around his neck where it belonged, much to his relief.

Dan Clark declared them man and wife each in turn.

And bade him kiss each bride in turn.

To the clapping of their dear friends.

* * *

Their wedding feast, which Jimmy later hardly remembered due to his state of lingering surprise, consisted of a delicious conglomeration of the Christmas meals their wedding party guests had brought to Lucy's house.

After Jimmy slipped home to exchange his wooden hands for the more dexterous hooks, they dined under the stars and in the glow of the candles and strewn lights.

Then Lucy proudly brought out their traditional dessert.

She had made it herself, with much patience, care, and love.

A modest, double tiered, white wedding cake.

Simply decorated with blue lace around the smaller upper tier.

And adorned with yellow roses around the larger lower tier.

And specially topped with the figures of a wooden lobster clawed groom and glowing conjoined brides.

Carved especially for them by the talented Thomas.

And painted by the artistic Lucy.

The cake and all its accoutrements looked amazing.

They, Jimmy, Bette, and Dot, cut the first slice together.

Fed each other.

The darlings mischievously painting their Jimmy's face with a smear of icing to the good-natured laughter and enthusiastic applause of their gathered guests.

Then they all sat down to enjoy the large reminder of the cake that wasn't mixed into the groom's eyebrows.

It tasted as wonderful as it looked.

And as they enjoyed it, they turned their attention to the chilled bubbly beverage.

With great consideration to the preferences of those in attendance, Mr. Clark had taken the time and effort to procure non-alcoholic champagne for them, a rare find in 1957.

Generous glasses were poured all around.

And they took turns toasting each other and the blessed event.

Jimmy couldn't exactly remember later what he had said.

Something about loving and being grateful for Bette and Dot.

And his friends that were now seated before him.

He might've mentioned those loved ones gone on before.

He, his heart so full it was almost intoxication in and of itself, couldn't be sure.

But he knew he teared up once or twice.

And knew then that it was okay, that there was such a thing as joyous, healthy tears.

They all remembered being very, very happy.

And together.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when the wedding festivities ended.

Hugs and handshakes and cheek pecks traded all around.

And married Walkers walked the short distance home.

Marriage certificates rolled up and tied with neat bows.

Clutching the last of the special champagne in hand.

And rice in their hair.

They went home.

And happily fell into bed together.

Though they did not sleep.

Not for a long, passionate, celebratory while at least.

* * *

Now adorning the living room wall of their small house was a new object of admiration.

One of which they were all very, very proud.

"This is to Certify that

Jimmy D. Walker

~and~

Dorothy Jean Tattler

were united in

Marriage

on the twenty-fifth day of December

in the Year of Our Lord 1957

at the residence of Ms. Lucy Barrett

Brandon, Florida

signed, Daniel M. Clark, minister

witnesses: Thomas M. Clark

Lucy M. Barrett

And hanging beside it was another.

Equally important and significant.

The marriage certificate of Jimmy D. Walker to Elizabeth Ann Tattler.

Both framed.

Both valued.

Both cherished.

Though not as much as they valued and cherished each other.

* * *

**And there's the conclusion of the wedding plot bunny brigid1318 unknowingly granted me. Thanks, sweetie! Hope everybody liked it :)**

**Thanks to brigid1318, midnightrebellion86, DinahRay, Justbychance, smashley007, the 1upguy, autumnrose2010, haily94, and Jurana Keri for jumping up with those awesome reviews!**

**Thanks to PrincessHigh90 for adding your support to this story as well. **

**And thanks to all the silent readers out there. I see you and I appreciate you. :)**

**Now we're going to skip another few years here all the way to 1960, the year of the final episode. Don't know how many more chapters, but some.**

**See you in a while :)**


	28. A Little of Everything

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

A Little of Everything

* * *

Life ambled on nicely and quietly. This and that and nothing much of repute.

Which suited the Walker family just fine.

Because they were happy, you see.

Little surprises here and there, but nothing compared with what was to come.

* * *

Walking hand in hook, in the cool evening air, down the street, they saw it for the first time.

There, in the big front window of Al's Electronics.

Gunsmoke. In full color.

"Well, would you look at that!"

"Wow, that's some red hair Miss Kitty has."

"Bet the carpet doesn't match the drapes."

"_Jimmy_!"

"What? I'm just saying, nobody's hair is that red without a bottle."

He thought he would be reprimanded to sleeping on the couch for the night.

He wasn't.

* * *

As the world was turning, Miss Elsa Mars and her charismatic personality were definitely taking Hollywood by storm.

Jimmy and his darlings found themselves among the few that remained relatively unimpressed.

Though it was fun conversational fodder now and again.

"So, would you lovely ladies like the new Miss Elsa Mars Christmas record this year?"

Bette and Dot shuddered in unison.

"Oh goodness no, Jimmy! After everything she did to us?!"

_And what we did to her._

_Hush up, sister._

"We never want to hear her voice again!"

Their charmer teased his dimples adoringly at them.

"Fair enough. Still, saying we know an Emmy winner would be something to tell."

"Darling, there aren't enough words in the English language to say what we would want to tell."

_And they're all bad too._

_Well, mostly. We did end with Jimmy here . . ._

_So it's quite wonderful then. _

_Perhaps we should write her a thank you letter and send some flowers._

_Well, I wouldn't _that _far, sister._

_Mmmhh, that's what I thought. _

_Oh hush._

"So what _would_ you like for Christmas?"

* * *

"Oh, did you hear? The territory of Alaska has been made a state!"

Cool February sun shone down on their faces as they hung the wash out to dry. Jimmy looked over from his light repair of the aging fence.

"Really? How many does that make now?"

"Forty-nine, I think."

"Where is it?"

"Up north near Canada. Very cold up there."

"Oh." Visions of Wisconsin's nearly neverending winter snowflaked through his mind. "Well, that's nice for them."

And tilted his head back to enjoy the much milder southern winter.

* * *

_The dogs, oh good grief, the dogs!_

They didn't frequently follow the great Elsa Mars and her glamourous Hollywood jetsetter lifestyle.

But occasionally they caught snippets here and there on the evening news, magazines, and commercial news.

Which always gave them such a surreal feeling they wondered if they had simply dreamed it all.

_What? I think they're cute. _

_Well, you think she'd at least name them something decent._

_We should just be glad she hasn't eaten them for supper yet._

_Sister!_

_And that husband, so much younger! _

_Jimmy's younger than us._

_By a mere six years, dear sister. We're talking _decades_ here._

_Well, at least she never went after our Jimmy . . . did she?_

"Uh, Jimmy, my darling . . ."

The following question shocked him and they could swear he started turning green.

"What?! No!"

_Oh blessed relief._

_Oh yes, absolutely._

* * *

_One day, dear sister, we are going to get one of those clothes dryers so we don't have to do this. _

_Yes, Bette, we are. _

_And an air conditioner!_

_Now you're talking high cotton!_

_Yes, yes, I am. _

They _were _grateful for the Florida sunshine that dried their garments on the backyard line.

They were _not _always grateful for the heat that dried them out along with it.

Lucy, believing it one of her missions in life to keep the children in her library informed of all the latest appropriate news, just couldn't resist bringing it home on the weekends.

Sometimes even to the laundry line.

"Hawaii is our fiftieth state now! Can you believe it? Fiftieth! Way out in the warm, breezy Pacific Ocean."

She sighed dreamily into the humid Floridian swelter of August. But warm island living didn't seem as appealing to her currently melting friends as it might have otherwise.

"Well, I guess we'll see Elvis and his pelvis there soon," Bette quipped.

"I know _I'm_ looking forward to it," Jimmy commented suggestively.

Compelling the women playfully throw wet, rolled up socks at him.

Which of course he dodged with a good-natured grin.

* * *

"In other news, reoccurring sit-ins at local diners and subsequent police involvement in the Greensboro area have upset the community balance, much to the dismay of many white patrons. As one was quoted saying, 'They need to stick with their own kind. And somebody better tell these jumped up nig-'"

Anger clenching his features, the fuming Jimmy reached over switched the radio station over.

"Stupid people! Everybody needs to eat, don't they? Who cares where they go? Jeez, what a loada bulk!"

Bette and Dot wordlessly set down a steaming cup in front of him and seated themselves at the eating table as well.

An overbright tune floated out into the air, clashing terribly with the suddenly dark aura of the room.

'You can dance, go and carry on till the night is gone and it's time to go . . .'

"The world's not as good-hearted as you, Jimmy . . ."

"Though it should be."

He moped into his morning joe.

"You two sound like my mother."

Bette and Dot smiled gently.

"We'll take that as a compliment."

'So darlin', save the last dance for me . . .'

They ate in companionable silence for the remainder of the song, Bette and Dot allowing their riled up husband to relax and gather his thoughts.

Until the radio announcer, tinny and overenthusiastic, broke through their reveries.

" . . . so pick up your Campfire Gold Instant Coffee today! It's Elsa Mars approved!"

This seemed to enliven a more mischievous Jimmy just a little as he drew a deep, strengthening breath.

"Hey, wanna buy some?"

Dot glowered threateningly as Bette rolled her eyes.

"If you bring that garbage into _our_ house, we'll throw it into the yard and make _you_ sleep out there with it!"

Miming surrender, Jimmy waved his work hooks humbly.

"Okay, okay."

A beat of silence.

"Still, sounds awful good. I bet Miss Mars pooped it out herself just this morning."

_He comes out of his gloominess quicker and quicker now. _

_Yes, thankfully. But I still may smack him if he doesn't watch it._

"Jimmy my _darling_, would you _please_ just bring home some good old fashioned Folgers?"

He nodded obediently, a spark of a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes ma'am."

And winked at Bette.

Who giggled.

* * *

**Hello, all! Hope everyone's doin' well. Just carryin' on like our good people here. :)**

**This is the homestretch of our tale and you probably know what the main focus of it is going to be. **

**So let's jump in and I hope you enjoy!**

**Oh, also, confession time. Gunsmoke started in 1955 but wasn't in color until 1966. But I just couldn't let go of the joke. Plus, Jimmy just can't be a Stepford husband, right? He's got to be just a little 'off color' sometimes. Oops, I punned it. *smirks**

**Thanks to Dinah Ray, midnightrebellion87, brigid1318, haily94, The Cry-Wank Kid, and autumnrose2010 for wonderful reviews a while back. **

**Thanks also to Bumblebee93 and LuciaDiAngelo for adding your support here as well. **


	29. Where Credit is Due

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Where Credit is Due

* * *

The end of 1959 proved quite a pleasant shock for Jimmy Walker.

It shouldn't have though.

His darlings knew he had never given himself enough credit.

His boss, however, did.

"Jimmy, I think it's time for me to ease on out of this racket. How about you take it from here?"

The Christmas rush had lulled and it was quiet for the first time all day.

_Me? The Tupperware murderer? The carnie freak? The Lobster Boy? _

Jimmy understandably had to fumble to find words.

"Me? Oh, well, yeah, sure. But what about Thomas?"

The elderly storeowner shook his head.

"No, no, we've talked several times and he's not interested in working the store. Never has been. Prefers his own path. Saddened me a bit but what good parent's gonna force their child's hand, right? He's got his own life and we get along just fine as is."

Jimmy contemplated that for a moment until Mr. Clark brought him back.

"Don't answer me now. Go home, talk with those ladies of yours, and come back tomorrow, okay?"

And with a pat on the back, the old man set his hat on his snow white head and set off.

Leaving Jimmy in something of a daze.

Finishing work for the day hours later, he closed up shop.

And went home to his darlings.

Who enthusiastically congratulated him on the offer.

"Oh, Jimmy my darling, that's wonderful!"

"We're so proud of you!"

He took their hugs and kisses with happiness.

But . . .

"What about Thomas? Do you really think he's okay with me taking his father's business instead of him?"

Bette shrugged as Dot spoke for them both.

"I don't see why not. Dan's always been honest and direct before, hasn't he?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Yeah. I just . . . I just don't feel right about it unless I know for sure."

Dot nodded with understanding as Bette took her turn responding for them both.

"Give us an hour. You relax."

And off they went.

* * *

An hour later, when the freshly homemade peach pie was cooling and ready for travel nestled in a small cardboard box tied with string, Bette and Dot joined Jimmy in the old rattly truck they still drove.

And went visiting.

* * *

The door was opened to a doubled hook handed man and a two headed woman standing on his welcome mat, smiling.

A lesser man might have registered surprise. Distaste. Embarrassment.

But Thomas Clark was not a lesser man.

And these people were his friends.

"Hello, Jimmy! Bette! Dot! Come in, come in!"

They entered a house a little bigger than their own, newer, and in a slightly better section of town.

Two little children were playing on the floor, a boy and a girl.

The boy was playing with dark green army soldiers and the girl was combing a doll's hair.

A pretty blond woman came out of the kitchen area, wiping her hands on her apron.

She, with her genuine smile and slight bouffant, in no way resembled another blond from their carnie past and for that all three Walkers were subconsciously grateful.

"Kathy, I'd like you to meet Jimmy Walker, Dad's store man. And," here he gestured subtly to each twin in turn. "Dot and Bette Walker."

"Hello," the blue eyed lady responded warmly without a hint of disdain or shock.

_He must have told her about us, sister. _

_Yes. What a relief not to be gawked at. _

"Hello," Dot replied with a smile.

"We've brought you some peach pie," Bette offered. "And thought we'd chat a while if that's alright."

The man and woman both nodded amicably.

The men drew away, speaking casually of this and that as Bette and Dot followed the Mrs. into the kitchen area.

"This looks delicious!" Kathy Clark exclaimed, obviously delighted. "I didn't make a dessert this evening and this will do nicely."

She reached into the freezer and pulled out a carton of vanilla ice cream.

They preceded to plate portions of ice cream and pie for them all.

With coffee for the adults and milk for the kids.

* * *

". . . glad for you to," Thomas stated firmly. "I respect my father's profession, but it's just not my cup of tea, so to speak."

Jimmy nodded, his anxiety relaxing. Relieved to be past the awkward reason they had come.

His attention was then diverted by the children who seemed to be having some difficulty eating their dessert because they were too busying staring at their parents' very odd evening guests.

With their hooks and double heads.

Finally the little girl, Patty, spoke up.

To Dot and Bette.

"Did you get stuck together?"

Sheets of glassy silence descended upon the dessert table at her childish question.

Not seeming to notice, she continued on in her inventive train of thought.

"George and I were running in the house and Mommy told us not to and said if we ran into each other we would get stuck together forever. Is that what happened to you?"

Their stunned hostess immediately colored and reprimanded the small child gently.

"Patty, hush!"

Bette shook her head at the mother as Dot spoke.

"It's alright, Mrs. Clark. She didn't mean any harm."

Then both women redirected themselves to the girl.

"No, sweetie, we didn't get stuck together, . . ."

" . . . this is the way God made us."

The little girl puzzled on this before responding.

"Why?"

The twins had no answer for her, though they instinctively knew they should have formulated one in advance.

"We don't really know, honey. Maybe He wanted us to never ever be alone."

_I love you, Dot._

_I love you, Bette._

The little girl nodded sagely and abruptly went back to her peach pie as if rediscovering it for the first time.

"This is the best pie ever! Not even Mommy can make it this good!" she chirped, much to the ever deepening embarrassment of her mother.

But before her parents could comment, her brother's mouth, seemingly unstuck by the glue that held it, opened.

"What you have those hooks for?"

_Oh good, it's my turn._

Jimmy turned to him as Thomas opened his mouth to reprimand his son.

"I lost 'em," he answered simply.

The boy stared at him as if the grown man were a silly child himself.

"Well, why didn't you go back and find 'em?"

_Ha ha, good idea, kid. Ugh, no._

He leaned closer to the small boy whose eyes widen at the expectation of some incredulous revelation.

And whispered.

"'Cause I thought these'd be better for picking my _nose_ with!"

Jimmy carefully mimed the forbidden action as the child erupted into boyish giggles, his little hands clapped over his mouth.

"Jimmy!" Bette and Dot exclaimed in surprise-but-not-really-surprise.

The tension at the table broke as the adults chuckled at the astonished children delighting in the improper table talk.

Later before they left, Bette and Dot secretly gave Kathy their peach pie recipe.

And she teasingly thanked them for all the pounds she would gain in the future.

* * *

So Jimmy became the head honcho of the little mom and pop grocery store on the corner.

Dan Clark rediscovered his love of fishing.

Bette and Dot determined to be more prepared for interactions with inquisively-minded children.

Thomas and Kathy contrived to both have their pie and not gain excessive amounts of weight from it as they ate it too.

As their sweet little Patty invented an invisible twin sister named Natty with whom she shared a pinky finger.

And little George played 'hook hands' with their Labrador retriever, Jack.

Who didn't really understand the game at all.

But loved the attention from his master.

All in all, it was a good few years.

* * *

**Thanks to brigid1318, midnightrebellion87, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, and haily94 for coming back after the hiatus. You guys are great! **

**See you tomorrow for some big news! As if you didn't know. :)**


	30. The Day the World Changed

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

The Day the World Changed

* * *

_Oh, sister, I don't believe it. _

_Neither do I. I didn't think it was even possible._

_Oh, I think we've lived enough to find out anything is _possible_, Dot. What you mean is you didn't think it was _probable_._

_Oh hush, you. _

Bette and Dot were conjoined twins.

They shared just about everything in their mutual body.

They each had their own lungs and heart, which accounted for their uniquely sized sternum.

However, by some intricately derived set of internal workings, they did share a circulatory system.

And everything on down.

One stomach, one liver, one bladder, three kidneys, one set of intestines.

And one reproductive system.

They knew of these things not because they were aware of them necessarily or because they closely understood the complexities of the conjoined human body.

Their mother, as had been common during her day and age, had given birth at home and thereafter had always refused to take her strangely formed daughters to a doctor for any sickness.

_Never turn them into a sideshow attraction_, she'd said_. Be downright vulgar and shameful_.

And so they just never knew.

Everything worked properly and they wouldn't know it if it didn't.

They knew of their internal construction because as terrified and distraught as they had been on the day they had been forcibly subjected to an X-Ray exam by a stern doctor and frowning nurse, they had listened.

Listened closely because it might possibly be the only time they would have the opportunity to understand themselves.

So they knew they had working parts.

And that was about it.

Their mother had never explained anything they hadn't forced her to.

When they had begun to bleed unexplainably at the age of eleven, she had, with taut, blank expression, showed them how to fix themselves up and remain as clean as possible.

They'd screamed and cried and begged and pleaded for an explanation until she had given in.

They would not die.

They would instead bleed every month for a several days until they were old women.

And when they had continued to beg and cry for further information, she had finally relented just a little more.

"Because it is a woman's shame. Eve sinned in the Garden and now we must all suffer."

_But why, why, why_, had come the unrelenting plea.

"That is how women have babies of course. And when they stop bleeding, they know they'll have babies. Or they are too old."

_We're going to have _babies_ one day?!_ They had squealed, their crushing fear turning into slowly surging excitement.

And their mother's plain face had blanched and her lips pursed as if tasting something unpleasant.

"No," she replied darkly. "Not you, no. No man would ever want to lay with a two-headed girl and make babies."

And their sudden excitement had mutated into deep hurt and lost confusion.

_But . . . why? Are we so ugly?_

"No," their mother had relented in an uncharacteristic attempt at comfort. "You are pretty enough, your faces and hair . . ."

They had self-consciously touched their smoothly combed tresses.

". . . but no sane man would ever want to touch your unnatural body. And any child made in you would be a sin and an abomination in itself. God in Heaven surely has made you barren."

Soul shattering words.

_But . . . but we can't help the way we are made, Mama!_ They had cried through their now streaming tears.

And their mother had sorrowfully shook her head, her eyes in their deep sockets turning hollow and withdrawn again.

"No, that was my sin," she had admitted dully. "Your father said he would stay and marry me, but when you were born and he looked at you, he ran away and never came back. So your abomination is my sin."

Then she had gone away, out into the vegetable patch, and refused to speak another word of it to them.

Ever.

So Bette and Dot Tattler had grown up with the knowledge that no man would ever want them.

And they would never be mothers.

And all they would ever have was each other.

* * *

Now, however, it seemed things had changed.

They had been 'with' Jimmy their darling since 1953.

Quite enjoyably for all three of them, they had to admit.

And since they had been thoroughly convinced they were unable to bear children, they had never taken any precautions.

And never much thought of it.

Until now.

When they did not bleed anymore.

They were, and had now been, sick, sick, sick every day for the past several weeks.

By some stroke of luck, trading nausea back and forth between like teammates in a sporting competition.

There were other changes as well.

_Oh, my sister, my chest is so sore!_

_And bigger too._

_Oh shut up, I'm miserable._

_Me too._

_Uuuggghhhh . . ._

_Dot?_

_Yes, Bette?_

_Do you possibly think . . ._

_Oh, my . . ._

* * *

They didn't say anything to Jimmy for a few more weeks.

They wanted to be sure.

They wanted to be confident.

Because they knew it would probably come as a shock to him. As it had them.

And so on the night they told him, they contrived first to make him as happy and content as possible.

They made his favorite supper. A tender, moist pot roast complete with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Buttered rolls. Whole milk.

He devoured it gladly, claiming it was the best meal he'd ever had.

And jokingly suspecting they must have some secret up their sleeves.

Bette and Dot glanced at each other, little smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

_He's going to be so surprised when he finds out he's right. _

_Yes, but first let's have dessert. _

_Okay, but don't stuff us silly again. _

_What? I'm not feeling sick anymore and I'm _hungry.

_Me too, dear sister, me too. But I like to _breathe_._

_Oh hush up, fork it over. _

The banana pudding was just as delicious as ever and so they waited until the last morsel on their plates had been devoured before dropping their simple sentence bomb on their darling.

_Deep breath, sister. _

_Here we go. _

"Jimmy, we're going to have a baby."

The man across from them froze, his eyes blinking slowly as if he was in a land of confusion.

Also, he didn't seem to be able to form words very well.

"Wh . . . wha . . . what?"

_Oops. Bette, I think we broke him. _

_Oh, I hope not. _

"Jimmy, we're going to have a baby. You're going to be a daddy."

His eyes moved mechanically from one face to another.

Then down to their still flat belly.

Then back up.

"B . . . bu . . . but . . . how?"

_Oh no, we did break his brain. _

_Unfortunate. I always liked that along with the rest of him._

As Dot was contemplating this, Bette spoke up.

"Well, personally, Jimmy, my darling, I think it was all the sex."

Dot snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth in a fruitless attempt to stop her insensitive outburst.

As Bette smiled naughtily. Then sobered up, reached out her hand, and laid it on Jimmy's forearm.

"Jimmy?"

His entire countenance remained in a state of divine shock.

"_Jimmy."_

He managed to train his dark eyes on her kind face.

And gentle smile.

"It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

He nodded a little, looking as lost and vulnerable as the day he was born.

And just when Dot and Bette thought they would have to chisel him out of his self-induced marble casing, he smiled.

A big, dopey, sweet smile that filled his entire face with a light of the blessed.

_Oh thank God, sister. We've got him back. _

_Yes, we do._

* * *

Yes, they did.

Along with his renewed ability to form facial expressions, came a jittery overflow of energy to the thirty-two year old man.

And an outpouring of excited words.

He talked almost constantly.

They took turns, Dot and Bette, fielding the many, many questions he continued to fling excitedly at them.

"How far along is it?"

"We think about two months."

"How do you know?"

"Well, there have been certain changes . . ."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"We didn't want to upset the applecart if it was nothing."

"Applecart? What applecart?! Did we get an applecart?"

"It's an expression, Jimmy, my d-"

"What else have you not told me?! Have we struck gold in the backyard? Oil in the flower garden?"

"Not that I am aware of. Though it might help if we did."

"Does Lucy know?"

"No. We wanted you to be the first."

"Does Mr. Clark know?"

"Dot just said-"

"Does Thomas know?"

"Have I suddenly started speaking _French_, dear sister?"

"When is it coming?"

"Thanksgiving, we think."

"What is it?"

"A baby would be my first guess."

"Can I touch it?"

"Of course, but you may not feel any-"

"Can it hear me?"

"I don't know."

"How big is it?"

"Not very since we haven't gained any-"

"What does it look like?"

"Sister, dear, should we get this man a drink to help calm him down?"

"Yes, I believe a nice, stiff Coca Cola just might do the trick."

What they did not know was that every bottle of Coca Cola had a dash of cocaine in it.

Which caused positive feelings and a slight sense of euphoria.

Which did not help Jimmy calm down in the least.

But, they had to admit, it was fun to watch him go.

* * *

And, inevitably, the ultimate question.

"Oh my god . . . is it . . . going to be . . . like us?"

It was the first time he had slowed down since they had dropped their knowledge bomb on his unwitting head.

He wilted, he sagged.

Face strained with muted fear and rising anxiety.

Bette and Dot looked at each other and communicated silently.

_There's the question we've been waiting for, sister._

_Well, we've already asked it ourselves, haven't we?_

_Yes, we have. And we are going to give him the same decision we came to._

Bette and Dot each reached out and gently caressed a cheek.

"Jimmy, darling . . ."

"Listen to us now . . ."

"There's no way of knowing what she will look like . . ."

At this statement, the man himself melted straight into the floor.

"It's a _she_?! You didn't tell me _that_! How do you-"

A quiet, soothing _shhh. _

"We don't . . ."

"And that's not the point . . ."

"That's just what we've settled on until the baby is born . . ."

"The point is, everything is going to be fine, Jimmy, my darling . . ."

"If she has two heads . . ."

"Or lobster hands . . ."

"Or a beard . . ."

"Or shortened arms . . ."

"Or is an Indian princess doll . . ."

"Or if she looks perfectly normal . . ."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that she has parents that will love her . . ."

"Guide her . . ."

"Take care of her. . ."

"And be proud of her . . ."

"No matter what."

They stopped. Continued to hold their husband's gaze.

"Right?"

He nodded solemnly, eyes welling with unshed tears.

His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke.

"Yes. Oh yes."

And he embraced them. The three of them.

_I'm going to be a father._

And cried.

But they were happy, hopeful tears.

So it was okay.

* * *

**What's that you say? Jimmy's crying _again?_ Well, yeah, but they're happy tears this time so it's okay. ;)**

**Thanks to midnightrebellion86, DinahRay, brigid1318, haily94, and autumnrose2010 for wandering through that last chapter with me.**

**Tomorrow's chapter (rubs hands together eagerly) will turn your stomachs, so be prepared. But it'll make you laugh too if I wrote it right.**


	31. Inappropriate Experimentations

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Inappropriate Experimentations

* * *

After their initial morning sickness ebbed away, Bette and Dot found themselves hungry.

Very hungry.

Very, very hungry.

But not for the typical fare they (and Jimmy) were accustomed to.

No.

That would have been too predictable and easy.

Instead, they discovered the joys of some more unique family meals that delighted their creative juices, so to speak.

And left Jimmy their darling feeling somewhat baffled.

And other times downright ill.

It started out slowly, an odd supper a night or two a week.

A chow mein casserole here, grilled spam and pineapple sandwiches there.

Jimmy was encouraging and supportive of his newly pregnant wives.

_I'm glad they aren't afraid to try new things and move forward._

He would come to regret that silent thought.

* * *

"Hello, darling! We're having pie for supper."

_Pie? Oh boy!_

The respected man-in-charge of the corner mom and pop store sat down eagerly at the table for supper.

His darlings, proudly wearing their handmade apron, approached, holding a round glass pie pan.

They set it in the middle of the table.

Jimmy looked at it.

And forgot how to blink.

Pie for supper.

Indeed it was.

A properly prepared pie shell, filled with something pale and creamy looking.

With flowered baby tomatoes on top.

_Ummm . . ._

"It's a new recipe!" Bette gushed excitedly. "Tuna and Jello Pie!"

Dot cut out a generous portion and placed it on his plate.

_What . . . the . . . hell . . ._

A red, wobbly substance peeked out from underneath the creamy top layer.

He scooped some up in his fork, taking a deep breath as he did so.

_I love my wives, I love my wives, I love my wives . . ._

The food-laden utensil entered his mouth and found his tongue.

He ducked his head.

_Oh man. That is _so_ bad. _

Then looked up at his darlings.

Swallowed the bite.

And found the willpower to smile.

* * *

But it didn't stop there.

Oh no. It only seemed to get worse.

"Oh, Jimmy? You like bananas, right?"

_Bananas. That sounds safe._

He grinned at them.

"Sure!"

They returned the positive energy.

"Great! We made 'Ham and Bananas Hollandaise'!"

The words didn't make sense.

They didn't sound like words.

Or food.

"What?"

They pulled back the aluminum foil on the casserole dish.

_Oh my god. _

There _were_ bananas.

Whole bananas.

Without their skins, thankfully.

But they were wrapped up in thin deli ham slices.

And some sort of yellowish liquid had been inexplicably poured all over them.

Still, Jimmy tried.

"Uh, what's that? Mustard?"

Dot grinned as her sister spoke.

"No, silly. Hollandaise."

_Ah, of course . . . what the hell is hollandaise?_

The smell drifting up from the dish was . . . unusual to say the least.

Jimmy pulled his fearful gaze away from the countertop.

Mentally groping for some sort of help.

"Do we have any milk?"

They did.

It didn't help.

* * *

Bette and Dot were in the kitchen, a magazine open before them.

Again.

Having fun with their food.

Again.

"Oh, look, Bette! 'Liver-Sausage Pineapple'!"

"Oh how interesting! And liver-sausage! That sounds delicious!"

"Yes, and so full of protein and iron for the baby too!"

"Pineapple. Hmmm. Well, we've got some left over I think."

"Oh, we only need the green leafy top. The liver-sausage _is_ the pineapple."

"Oh. Okay then."

"Let's see, and we'll need lemon juice . . ."

"Worcestershire sauce . . ."

"Gelatin and mayonnaise . . ."

"Oh look, the olives slices stuck to the sides make the pineapple look more real!"

"This is going to be fun!"

"Oh and then we score it with a knife to look like a pineapple!"

"I wonder what Jimmy'll have to say about it?"

"Guess we'll find out tonight."

Jimmy didn't say anything.

He couldn't find the words.

He really couldn't.

Not out loud anyway.

_Am I in an opium tent? 'Cause if so, I want to get out. Now._

* * *

It was Friday.

Sometimes they had fish on Fridays.

Such as this particular Friday.

"We made salmon."

_Oh, salmon. That sounds okay. _

They proudly set the platter down.

_Oh god._

It was salmon. A whole steaming salmon.

Which wasn't too bad.

But its body was covered with . . .

"Hollandaise."

_Again. Oh good._

And something seemed to be spilling out of its guts.

"The side dishes are inside, see? Steamed rice and diced celery, onions, and carrots."

_Uh . . ._

"It's looking at me."

With its little olive eyes.

But at least it wasn't talking.

No, its open, screaming mouth was too stuffed with parsley for that.

So Jimmy took a deep breath.

And reached for his fork.

"We also made a salad to go with it."

_Oh yeah. Salad. That'll fill me right up._

"And rolls."

_That sounds hopeful. I think._

"What kind of rolls?" he ventured.

Bette and Dot blinked at him as if it were obvious.

"Just . . . rolls."

Relief.

"Can I have some?"

They brought the bread basket, with buttery dinner rolls nestled inside.

He nearly cried.

They looked so normal and pretty and delicious.

And they were.

* * *

He dreaded to ask it.

He _dreamed_ of not asking it.

But in the end, he asked it.

"What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes."

"Oh," he replied, realization slowly beginning to dawn that all might not be lost for the evening. "Oh that's great!"

He eagerly sat down to eat.

And stared at the plate they placed before him.

_Uhh . . ._

"What's this?"

He tried not to sound too disheartened.

His darlings didn't seem to notice.

"It's an Eskimo igloo!" Dot replied joyfully.

_Yep, that's what I thought._

"Cut it open!" Bette insisted.

He did.

The inside was brown and smelled like . . .

"Meatloaf, see?"

_Okay, uh, yeah. _

"And the outside is the mashed potatoes!" Bette giggled. "That's what makes it look like . . ."

_An eskimo igloo, yeah, I got it._

He nodded reflexively, determined to see this meal through. Just like all the others.

"And on top is melted cheddar cheese!"

"Sort of yellow snow."

_I used to make yellow snow back in Wisconsin. _

"Well, try a bite."

He did.

_Oh hey, meatloaf. Okay._

"It's good," he offered, trying not to sound too relieved for fear of insulting them.

He ate the little eskimo dwelling.

And the green field of English peas.

And the mountain roll.

And it was good.

Though it still looked awful weird.

* * *

Another night. Another meal.

A man sitting down to the supper table as if awaiting military questioning and subsequent torture.

A man who liked, or at least didn't mind, bologna.

Before tonight anyway.

But now . . .

"It's called 'Super Salad Loaf'."

_But . . . but . . . it's bologna._

And it was.

A large rectangle of bologna.

With something white and creamy piled all along the top of it.

Mayonaise, it turned out.

Decorated with radish roses and more leafy green stuff along with it.

And he could not keep his Jimmy-used-to-be-Darling mouth shut.

"_Salad_?"

Bette sliced open the rectangle of bologna to reveal the inside stuffed with more green.

"Mashed sweet peas mixed with onions and mayonnaise and gelatin!" she trilled triumphantly.

Since Jimmy had never heard of aversion therapy, he did not realize that he was unwittingly stuck right in the middle of it.

And his darlings, with their disturbing pregnancy cravings, didn't know it either.

So they all picked up their forks.

And got to work.

For one of them at least, it was hard work.

And he never said a word.

* * *

**Yes, yes, it appears Bette and Dot may have dropped right off the edge, hasn't it? Poor Jimmy. I guess I have brought back the 'horror' aspect back to the story, huh? ;)**

**I myself haven't really experienced much pregnancy cravings (other than 'give me food NOW') but even out of pregnancy I love, love, **_**love**_** dry Stove Top and peanut butter sandwiches. Mmmmm . . .**

**Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah. **

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, The Cry-Wank Kid, midnightrebellion86, Jurana Keri, haily94, and autumnrose2010 for your encouragement. Hopefully we all feel a bit less confused and creeped out by their union now that we've had a little more time to get invested in it.**

**And I strongly encourage each and every one of you to Google '21 Truly Upsetting Vintage Recipes' to see these recipes that I swear I did not make up! It'll make you more grateful for your ramen noodles and Hot Pockets. Heh heh. You have no idea how much I enjoyed gathering this information for this story! XD**

**I will confess not all of the recipes were from the '50s. But I was enjoying myself too much to be concerned with such trivialities as **_**that**_**.**

**See you tomorrow for . . . something :)**


	32. Come to Think of It

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Come to Think of It . . .

* * *

Bette and Dot were conjoined twins.

They were an anomaly. They were odd.

Freaks.

And now they were pregnant.

They were going to have a baby.

They were going to expand their family.

They were going to make their Jimmy a daddy for the very first time.

What they were not going to do was go to a doctor.

They were not a spectacle.

They were not a sideshow.

And they were not going to be made into one again.

Or allow such for their baby.

And so they just didn't go.

Jimmy, their darling husband, wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He grew up a carnie.

Carnies didn't go to the doctor. Carnie didn't trust doctors.

Carnies kept to themselves.

And had a big group of friends and sort-of family to take care of them.

But these were his darlings.

And this was his _baby_.

So he was really conflicted about the whole thing.

_Don't come near my wives. You might hurt them._

_But . . . what if there's a problem?_

Helpfully enough for him, Dot and Bette didn't ask him his opinion.

They simply informed him of their decision.

"We're not going. Don't try to make us."

_Well, that settles that, I guess. _

"But . . . what if something happens?"

Drawing up their shoulders with determination and pride, they spoke with unified intent.

"We will deal with that as and if it happens."

And their Jimmy knew he was in for a long several months.

"Besides," they'd comforted him a bit more gently, "if we have questions, we can ask Lucy or Kathy. They've had babies."

He'd ruminated on that a little before making his request.

"And you'll tell me? If something happens?"

They'd answered 'yes, you wonderful, sweet man' with soft, reassuring kisses.

And so, Jimmy their darling, grown, mature man and somewhat of a cohort in the scheme of things, resigned himself to the fact that he had nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

And wait.

* * *

But it wasn't always easy.

He endured many, long restless nights.

Lying next to his darlings.

Worrying, wondering about the life growing inside them.

What was it?

What would it look like?

Would it be strangely formed, like its parents?

If so, how would it manage in 'normal' society?

And how would they, namely he, manage the guilt of that?

Then again, what if it was born 'normal'?

Would it grow to hate and be ashamed of them? Shun them as the most of the world had?

Jimmy used-to-be-Darling-now-Walker was a man who'd always tried to take things in stride.

Growing up as a carnie'd he'd had to.

But this was his _child_.

And that was something else entirely.

So he had a lot of concerns and considerations to keep him up at night.

And he sifted through them all over and over again.

Until he drifted off to sleep and, more often than not, swam through dark, fearful, and heavy dreams.

While his darlings slept peacefully beside him.

Sometimes it was all he could do to refrain from reaching out, taking them by the shoulders, and shaking them awake.

_Aren't you worried?! Aren't you scared?! How can you both be so . . . so . . . calm?!_

But he didn't.

He listened to their breathing, sometimes lay a careful wrist across that belly that cradled his growing child.

And prayed formlessly and without artifice, for a healthy, happy child.

And the strength to be the father he should be.

* * *

"Who's going to be the mommy?"

Children. They could always be counted on throw an unexpected question out in the middle of a perfectly good dessert.

In this instance, it was little Patty, Thomas and Kathy Clark's, inquisitive daughter.

She sat at the kitchen table of the Walker house with her mother and Bette and Dot, swinging her feet in a carefree manner.

They were eating pie again. Apple this time.

And she so sat, another forkful of yumminess hovering near her mouth.

Awaiting an answer.

Her mother tried.

"Patty!" she surrusshed in muted shock. "That's not good manners, sweetie!"

The little girl with her blond braids laying on her tiny shoulders looked at her mother blankly.

"Why not? There's two of them, right? That's what you said. You said there are two of them and we should treat them like two separate people, Mama."

Now her mother broke into a deep blush but held her ground.

"Yes, but it's still not our business."

The little girl would not be denied.

"Why? They're our friends, aren't they?"

As their mother attempted to rally from her daughter's logic, Dot dove in to save the floundering woman.

"That is a wonderful question, Patty. And I'm glad you are our friend. "

Which only served to heighten the child's curiosity.

"Me too. You're nice and funny and pretty."

A pause.

_Well, I guess we dodged that one, sister._

"Well, which one is it? Who's going to be the mommy?"

_Damn. Clever child. _

_Yes, sister. _

"We both are," Bette replied gently. "We talked about it and decided we were both the _moms_ because we were _both_ having the baby."

_Well done, sister. _

_Thank you, my dear._

"Oh, right. 'Cause you got two heads and just one body."

_Damn, sister. _

_Yes._

"So why are you both the mommy if there's two of you?"

_I believe Kathy has stopped breathing. _

_She'll be okay._

"So we can give our baby double the hugs and kisses!" Bette exclaimed, reaching out and tickling the child a little.

The child giggled as her mother took a deep breath.

_Better catch Kathy. I think she's about to faint. _

But Patty was only getting warmed up, having received positive feedback from those in question.

"So what will the baby call you? Mama Dot and Mama Bette?"

_Not a bad idea. _

_Yes, we should keep this one around more._

The sisters responded 'we like that idea very much', smiling warmly at the smart little girl.

Who seemed to switch topics while staying directly on track.

"If you have one body, then who pottys?"

_Oh good Lord, sister. _

_Yes. Aren't you glad Jimmy isn't here? _

_Actually that might be even more fun. _

_Oh hush. And grab Mother again. She is turning purple. _

_Okay, but you take this question. I'm out of eight year old answers._

Dot turned to Patty, whose innocent expression revealed nothing more insidious than her childlike curiosity and thirst for understanding.

"I think we should wait to talk about that more when you're a little older."

The child pouted with clear disappointment and Dot couldn't stand it.

"Besides, you'll need to know it so you'll be the smartest doctor around, right?"

And that pouting countenance glowed with happiness and delight once more.

* * *

Lucy, of course, positively howled with laughter when her friends retold the conversation to her that evening.

"Oh my gracious, you're both so quick! I think I would have been fainting like her mother!"

Dot and Bette laughed along with her.

"Yes," Dot agreed. "But it is good to talk about some of those things so she doesn't think it's a bad secret."

"Just not all of them until she's older," Bette amended.

The women chuckled together.

"Well course."

Then they bent once more to the drawings on the coffee table before them.

Plans.

For the baby's room.

Lucy, in a fit of exhilaration over her friends' joyful life event, had taken it upon herself to design a mural for the walls of the baby's room.

So far there was a lot of pink.

And blue.

And clouds.

And sun.

And smiling, happy faces.

Which seemed just right.

* * *

**Yeah I know both Ethel and Desiree went to a doctor but as I think was obvious, that was not normal behavior for them. Plus, that doctor was a special guy. And no longer available for Bette and Dot, unfortunately.**

**Part of the idea for the Patty conversation came from 'Mad Men' if you can believe it. That poor little girl just gets slapped around by her prissy little mom when she's not 'perfect' instead of anyone ever actually explaining anything to her. Then again, I only watched a few episodes before giving up in disgust so maybe the mom gets better. I dunno.**

**Thanks to brigid1318, Dinah Ray, midnightrebellion86, haily94, and autumnrose2010 for sticking with me here.**

**Much appreciation also to the silent readers out there as well. **


	33. Gotcha

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can't really call this a horror story or a freak show anymore. It's just a story now :)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Gotcha

* * *

Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, a bad husband.

After several years of marriage, some men find themselves forgetting the niceties of day to day life.

Not Jimmy.

He was very considerate, kind, supportive, and an enjoyable lifemate to his cherished Bette and Dot.

He would do anything for them, give his life for them if required.

Or, more preferable, live his life _with_ them.

That being said, he did have something of an impish streak.

And sometimes, just sometimes, it got the better of him.

And got him into trouble.

* * *

Bette and Dot were a little late getting going that morning.

So late in fact, that their precious Jimmy was already in the kitchen when they wandered in, yawning and bleary-eyed.

"Morning," Jimmy greeted them, uncharacteristically chipper so early.

Bette offered him a vague smile while Dot cast him a morning glare that he decided she didn't really mean.

"I made coffee for us," he informed them, first setting down their cups on a bright green art deco placemat and then his own.

Bette awakened then a bit more to gift him a more lingering, appreciative smile.

"One cream, two sugars, right?"

Dot nodded as she reached for hers.

"And straight up black, right?"

Bette blushed prettily as she thanked him.

He seated himself across from them, playing with his own cup, though he didn't yet lift it to his lips.

"Mmmm, this is delicious!" Bette exclaimed. "Much better than our usual brew."

Jimmy grinned his dimples at them.

"Ours doesn't taste like that," Dot observed mildly.

Their husband said nothing.

"What did you do to it?" the more alert Dot questioned curiously.

To the man who appeared not to hear the question.

"Jimmy?"

Never before had there been a more innocent-looking person than the one across from them now.

"Yeah?"

Bette tuned in on the conversation with growing interest.

Dot repeated the question.

"What did you do to make it so good?"

Jimmy shrugged, still innocent, then glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, hey, almost time to open the store. Gotta go."

Rising, he gave the cup a precursory rinse and placed it in the sink.

Kissed his darlings.

And headed, a bit more quickly than usual it seemed, to get his wallet and store keys.

_He's been up to something. _

_What?_ _Oh._ A stifled yawn._ You think?_

_Yes, I do, Bette._

They rose, moving toward the cabinets.

The Folgers container was there, in its usual spot.

Taking it down, they opened it and peered in.

_Hmm, looks a little lighter._

Sniffed it.

_Smells less bitter._

And put it back in the cabinet, closing the door quietly.

Noticed a leftover piece of trash on the floor.

Bent to pick it up.

And opened the trashcan.

To see an empty container of coffee.

'Campfire Gold Instant Coffee.

Elsa Mars approved!'

"_Jimmy!_"

But he was gone, having zipped out of the house like a sneaky little prank-playing Shakespearean Puck.

When they hurried to the window, they just caught a glimpse of their darling hotfooting it down the sidewalk toward the store.

And away from them.

A big, self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face as he glanced back at the house for the briefest of seconds.

_I'm going to kill him tonight when he gets home!_

_Oh, that would be a pity. _

_He tricked us, dear sister!_

_Yes, he did. But instead of killing him, I have a better idea. _

_Oh. Do tell._

_Well . . . _

* * *

Jimmy came home that night, tiptoeing in like a man who knew his goose was cooked and well so deserved.

He was greeted by a glowing Dot and Bette, their smiles big and bright and welcoming.

They sweetly kissed him and offered him a soda.

Which he took and drank.

And did not taste the sweetness of because he was anxiously anticipating the coffee prank backlash that was surely a-coming.

Which his lovely darlings seemed to have forgotten all about.

Until supper.

"Jimmy, we're feeling a little tired tonight . . ."

"Maybe just a pregnancy thing . . ."

"Do you mind just having some sandwiches and potato chips this evening?"

Jimmy, ever compassionate and accommodating, especially when the subject of his growing child was brought up, nodded eagerly.

"Sure. Sounds great."

They smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, darling."

* * *

On a daring whim, they had bought TV trays on which to eat when they wanted to watch a program during supper.

It seemed deliciously inappropriate, having grown up eating every meal at a table without even a radio on.

Radios were considered a rude distraction during meals.

So a TV must surely be a outright sin.

Bette and Dot had giggled all the way through their first TV meal months back 'til Jimmy wondered if they must have spiked the tea.

Now it was common place a night or two a week to enjoy a program during a late supper.

So, there he sat, grinning at his darlings as they approached him with trays of ham and cheese sandwiches and salty potato chips.

Bette set his down on the tray and he placed the soda he had nursing all afternoon near it.

The girls set their own tray down in front of the couch.

Their sandwich was sliced in half to share between them as oft was the case.

A serving of potato chips and each a small glass of tea.

The opening theme of 'Father Knows Best' was beginning as Jimmy picked up his sandwich and took his first bite.

White bread.

_Mmmm . . . _

Ham.

_Mmmm . . ._

Sour cream.

_Ugh, what the-_

And cheese.

Still in the wrapper.

"Arghh," he garbled incoherently.

And discreetly spit it out.

And stared fixedly at his plate.

_Uhhh, well . . ._

Chips seemed to have acquired an extra dash of salt.

_I like potato chips._

He hooked one up and popped it into his mouth.

Sugar.

_What in the _hell_ is going on?_

Glanced over at his darlings.

Who, having quite forgotten the show, were giggling at him.

_Have they gone crazy? Together? At the same time?_

Without a word or even a pointed look, he picked up his tray and went into the kitchen.

There on the counter, previously hidden, was the empty container of Campfire Gold Instant Coffee (approved by Elsa Mars!).

And on it, words written in black marker.

_We love you!_

He put down his plate and picked up the container.

_Oh, okay. Yeah, I earned it._

He fixed his own sandwich and got his own chips.

And went back to the show.

And let them giggle.

* * *

**Thanks to midnightrebellion86 for the plot bunny. Hope you enjoyed it! :)**

**Thanks to The Cry-Wank Kid (&amp; her salmon loaf), Bumblebee93, DinahRay (&amp; her support &amp; encouragement, which enabled me to post today), autumnrose2010, Jurana Keri, brigid1318, and haily94 for your positive waves regarding this story. You guys really are fantastic. **

**We are nearing the end of this story, only a few chapters to go. :)**


	34. Baby Days

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

Baby Days

* * *

Warm Florida spring drifted into warmer, more humid Florida summer.

Life ambled on in its paces.

Jimmy the fair yet strict bossman, went to work.

Jimmy the kind and caring husband came home.

Enjoyed the company of his darlings.

And their growing belly.

Sometimes he fretted over the pregnancy, sometimes he was filled with wonder and elation.

But he always loved it and them.

Meals became more subtle, more normally flavorful affairs.

Though not completely without hiccup.

There were the molds of course, from time to time.

An occasional cucumber olive mold here, the infrequent zucchini mousse mold there.

Their chicken mousse mold for example sat Jimmy on the toilet for two days and he would never forget just how grateful he was for the bidet attachment.

And he finally, as kindly as he could, opened his mouth and stood up for himself.

Or his digestive track, rather.

"I'm really glad you're branching out and trying new things, I really am. But they're kind of . . . making me sick."

And his darlings did not break into hysterical pregnancy sobs or throw any hormonal tantrums.

_Why didn't he speak up before, sister?_

_Perhaps he was trying to accommodate us and our 'delicate' condition._

_Oh, the sweet idiot._

_Yes._

"Of course, Jimmy, my darling."

"We'd never want to make you ill."

"Why didn't you speak up before?"

He'd simply shrugged, not wanting to open his mouth and say something stupid that would ruin the whole thing.

And so they'd resolved to only make _one_ mold a week.

And Jimmy their darling resolved to secret away stashes of peanut butter and crackers in his office desk drawer for those nights.

And so they returned mostly back to more recognizable, more palatable foods that were easier on the senses.

And the stomach.

* * *

Bette and Dot had always sewn their own clothes.

And several of the more unique throws and needlepoints around the house.

Such as the set of small, decorative pillows on their bed reading _His Darling, His Darling, Her Darling, Her Darling. _

And now, adding to the baby's small but growing collection, _Their Little Darling._

They also began making baby clothes.

Mostly neutral colors that could suffice for a boy or girl.

Blues, greens, oranges.

Whites, light browns.

Though there was a growing pile of lacy, pink and purple, bow bedecked frocks on the shelves.

_If it's a boy, we can just sell them. _

_Yes. But it is a girl, you know. _

_Yes. I know. _

And they'd smile and laugh and gently caress their growing belly and awe at the miracle within.

They also sewed some new, looser fitting dresses for themselves as well.

They were very careful about what they ate, what they drank.

It was necessary to gain weight during pregnancy, of course. As much as the baby needed.

But they also wanted to provide all the vitamins and nutritions to make said baby just as strong and healthy as possible.

Still, from time to time . . .

_Momma Dot?_

_Yes, Momma Bette?_

_We're hungry. _

_Yes we are. But let's finish this trim first._

_And then . . . cake!_

_Well . . . _

_Cake!_

_I don't know . . ._

_Cake . . ._

_Okay. But an extra serving of vegetables at supper then. _

_Cake . . ._

_Yes, cake._

* * *

And then, one day, it finally happened.

The thing that made it even more real for them.

And their Jimmy.

He was out in the backyard, sipping some morning coffee before work when he heard the sudden cry.

"Jimmy!"

And dropping his coffee cup, he ran for the open back door.

Forgetting the screen was closed, he ran right into it and ricocheted off with a loud crack.

Cursing violently to himself, he hitched a hook into the handle and flung it open, racing the rest of the way into the house.

"Bette?! Dot?!"

_Oh God, what, what, I've been waiting for this, what, what?!_

The few steps past the baby's room . . .

_Knew we shouldn't have started getting ready, everything's gone wrong, I knew it would . . ._

And arrived at the closed bathroom door.

"Bette?! Dot?!" he called, sounding panicked.

_Whatwhatwhatwhat . . ._

"Jimmy, get in here! Quick!"

He pushed open the door.

And saw them.

Their hands were pressed to their slightly rounded stomach, tears sliding down their bright faces and that was all he saw for a moment as his heart threatened to take up permanent residence in his tightening throat.

Then he registered their smiles.

"Jimmy, the baby! She just kicked!"

He stood shock still for a moment, then thought he would hit the floor with relief.

"Really?!"

Dot nodded and Bette giggled.

He went to them on numb legs, hugging them both tightly and falling to his knees to kiss the still small belly and press his sweat-damp forehead to it with gratitude.

After a moment, he managed to rise, trembling, and embrace them again.

They walked toward the living room, chattering excitedly to him about how it felt and how long it lasted and wondering when it would happen again.

Then Dot stopped, her head tilted in the direction of the kitchen and the askew back door.

"Jimmy? What happened to the backdoor?"

_What door? There's a door?_

As excited and shellshocked as he was, it took a moment for him to process her words.

"Huh?"

Then he followed her gaze and his face reddened.

"Oh, uh, yeah. We're going to, uh, have to, uh, get a new screen."

* * *

The summer's sweltering heat was finally beginning to loosen its hold on the land.

Just a little.

Which was good because pregnant women usually feel as though they _are_ their own heat source the further they go along in their germination of life.

Bette and Dot, though they did not realize it, still had it a lot easier, being conjoined twins.

Singular women find it difficult to breathe around the baby from time to time, especially as the child enters its final stages of growth.

And women alone often find their hearts, pumping nearly fifty percent more blood through their bodies, racing and beating extra hard.

Which can lead to dizziness and lightheadedness on occasion.

Which is harmless and quite normal, albeit worrisome, for the woman in question.

But in this way, Bette and Dot, as they had been so frequently as of late, were once again, united and there for each other.

Even if they were not aware.

Their two hearts and conjoined circulatory system shared the increased blood volume, working together to nourish their growing child and sustain themselves.

Their four lungs breathed deeper, more fully, helping lessen the strain on their body. And that slightly expanded chest cavity grew less constricted by the growing child than the typical woman.

Those three shared kidneys cleaned the toxins from their bodies so well that at times they thought they would never spend more than a handful of minutes at a time away from the bathroom.

Because they did, unfortunately, share just the one bladder.

_Sister, don't you dare think that glass of iced tea! It's after seven!_

_But I'm thirsty, Bette._

_We'll be up all night, going to the toilet!_

_Just a little then._

_Argh . . ._

And so they shared the burden of creating life and providing for themselves as well.

Nevertheless, the miracle of their conjoined bodies was working hard to bring a new life into the world.

And so they did find themselves falling asleep on Jimmy their darling's shoulder more and more frequently during their evening relaxation.

There he would be, watching _I Love Lucy_ and counting himself lucky that he did not have such an overdramatic, whiny wife . . .

_If Bette and Dot ever made that sound, I'd probably die._

When he would suddenly feel moisture upon his shoulder.

Or hear a soft snore.

Or simply realize he was the only one still laughing.

And there they would be.

Bette and Dot.

His beautiful darlings.

Sound asleep.

And probably dreaming of cake.

Or some new terrifying mold.

He always hated to wake them for bed.

But he simply did not have the strength or the dexterity to carry them to bed.

Sometimes he dreamed of sweeping them up in his arms like a dashing gentleman and carrying them off to bed.

Covering them up gently with a sheet.

And leaving a fragrant, red rose on each pillow for them to find in the morning.

But he couldn't do the carrying.

So he simply contented himself with kissing them awake.

And the baby belly.

Which moved and kicked under his delighted touch.

* * *

**Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86, haily94, The Cry-Wank Kid, and cherryblossom53 for shouting out.**

**Two more chapters, I think. Unless I get kicked in the head by inspiration. But I'll do my best to make them good :)**


	35. The Past, the Present, and the Future

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I can no longer call this a freak show or a horror story anymore. It's just a story. ;)

Jimmy, Not Moses

The Present, the Past, and the Unknown Future

* * *

Jimmy walked in the door that October afternoon to three smiling faces.

The first two were his darlings, Bette and Dot, as they approached to hug and lightly kiss him home.

The third was their friend Lucy, who waved and smiled from her cup of coffee.

"Well, how is everyone this afternoon?" the man of the house greeted them happily.

The twins beamed.

"A bit tired, but feeling good," Dot responded gaily.

Jimmy gently pressed a silver hook to their steadily expanding belly.

A month or two, surely no more.

The beloved belly was getting big and round and taut.

He moved deeper into the living room, thinking to head into the bedroom and remove his work appendages from his tired stumps.

But stopped.

Something was . . . different.

He stood immobile, only his eyes moving as he carefully took in his surroundings.

"The living room is different," he finally concluded. "The furniture's moved."

Dot and Bette followed his gaze proudly.

Yes, it was different.

The couch was pushed over to the opposite wall.

The television had changed position as well, along with lounge chair.

It didn't look _bad_. It looked comfortable and the space itself bigger.

But . . .

"You did this?" he queried them, trying to sound casual instead of irritated.

They nodded back at him, looking very self-satisfied at their afternoon accomplishment.

He glanced over at Lucy, who after years of spousal abuse, felt the tension emanating from the handless man, and was slowly tightening up, still her gut reaction to a situation such as this.

She knew her friends shared a kind, loving relationship.

That their Jimmy would never hurt with words or physicality.

But such learned reactions can take a long time to overcome.

She managed to keep her hands light on the blue coffee cup.

As Jimmy took a deep breath.

"That television is heavy," he commented calmly. "I know. I moved it first."

Bette and Dot nodded again, acquiescing the weight of the electronic furnishing.

"Oh, we know. But Lucy helped us with that one. We more . . . pushed by walking it with our legs."

Jimmy pressed his lips together tightly as he gazed at his glowing wives.

_You've got my baby in there! Be a little more careful with it, would ya?!_

He glanced over at the tensing Lucy and then back at his darlings.

Took another deep, calming breath.

"It looks good. Just . . . be careful, okay?"

He reached out and briefly stroked the mound that cradled his child within.

They nodded a final time, smiling.

"Of course, darling."

"Now let us show you what we've done to the _baby's_ room!"

_Ah, jeez. Give me strength. I bet they carried in an entire elephant just to make me worry._

He went with them.

It was actually quite adorable.

The painted up, carefully arranged room.

Not a heavy elephant in sight.

And he didn't stress out at all.

Well, not much.

* * *

"Oh, did you hear about the fearless Miss Elsa Mars?" Bette gushed over a light supper of vegetable beef stew and cornbread. "She's doing a Halloween special! On Halloween _night_!"

Jimmy paused, raising his eyebrows a bit as he absorbed this new information.

Lucy, their supper guest, friend, and household cleaning help now that the sisters were beginning to struggle with such bending and stretching, furrowed her brow prettily.

"So? A lot of shows do those."

The three Walkers exchanged secret looks.

They had never really spoken of their direct correlation to the famous Miss Mars with anyone, not even Lucy, with whom they were quite close.

And they certainly weren't going to start now.

"Well," Jimmy began, smirking his dimple. "Miss Mars is known to be very . . . superstitious about some things."

Lucy didn't seem to understand.

"There's a story among . . . performers," Bette began carefully. "Of a ghost named Edward Mordrake."

Lucy's entire face was a question.

"Some believe if you perform on Halloween, Edward Mordrake will come and take you away to be part of his troupe of the undead."

Jimmy remained quiet through this simplified telling of the specter that still haunted his dreams on occasion.

"I've never heard of that," Lucy gasped, mystified. "How do you know of it?"

Dot shrugged nonchanltly.

"We like stories."

Lucy's lovely eyes goggled.

"But if he comes for performers on Halloween, then how come there are any performers left when they _all_ do those shows?!"

Bette winked, even as she caught sight of Jimmy's almost imperceptibly paling face.

"Because it's just a story," she shrugged.

Jimmy barely suppressed a shiver.

_No, no it's not. Not at all. Not in the least._

Lucy did shiver, from head to toe.

"Well, it's certainly a good Halloween one."

_You have no idea_, Jimmy retorted silently.

But he had to break the deep freeze his body was sitting in before the women noticed.

"She's got guts though, I gotta give her that," he declared. "Being that superstitious, that's practically _inviting_ Edward Mordrake to show up."

Dot patted his knee affectionately, if a little mischievously.

"Well, just think about it. Those awful Christmas albums of hers that you bought to torture us with will be valuable memorabilia if she flops over onstage on Halloween night."

Jimmy shivered then forced himself to throw forth a carefree grin.

"Just the fortune we've been waiting for then."

And the Walkers chuckled to each other as their baffled friend Lucy gaped in horror.

"You people are _twisted_!"

Then she broke into muffled giggles almost against her will.

Bette smiled and squeezed her hand and sent bonds of secret silence to her cohorts.

"You have no idea."

* * *

"After all these years, do you regret what we did?"

Dot's question hung in the air between the three of them later that night as Jimmy entertained himself by balancing a plastic waterglass on the basketball belly bump of his child.

He didn't respond right away.

And his darlings, of course, waited.

Because he _would_ answer.

Because he didn't have a choice.

So he did.

"To Dandy? No. He was evil and deserved to die. He deserved to be played with because he played with others."

The baby kicked.

The glass tipped.

Jimmy grabbed it.

And set it back on the baby bump.

"I regret saying it's what Ma woulda wished. I'm not sure that was really true. Elsa, maybe. But Ma . . . I'm not so sure about that one."

Bette and Dot considered this.

The three of them had discussed these things before, long ago, and put them to rest. But every so often (such as when The Elsa Mars Hour was set to play its first ever Halloween special), it rose again into their minds.

"She put us through so much. Twisted everything up 'til we could barely see and think straight. Tried to turn us against each other even more so that we already were . . ."

Bette trailed off, thoughts adrift.

"And Dandy, he was so disturbing. So childlike yet so deadly and sadistic at the same time. We . . . just needed someone to pay for all the wrong that had been done to us. Everyone who shunned us. Hurt us. Like Elsa. And him."

Jimmy listened intently, even as he focused his rapt attention on the moving mound of tummy.

The baby kicked.

The glass tipped.

Jimmy grabbed it.

And set it back in its baby bump position.

"Do you think we'll ever pay for what we did?" Dot wondered. "I mean . . . after . . ."

The three of them thought about that.

The future.

The past.

The unknown.

Jimmy spoke, quietly and carefully.

"I don't know. We're . . . we're different people now. We have more options. That was revenge and desperation."

He paused.

"And maybe a little insanity."

The girls nodded in agreement.

They sat for a while, watching the glass bounce as the baby practiced its enthusiastic calisthenics just below the surface of their stetched skin.

"Do you think that's really why Elsa is doing the Halloween special? Does she _want_ Edward Mordrake to come get her and take her away?"

That was a new thought.

A dark, frightful one.

Maybe Elsa was tired of the hiding, tired of the games, of running away from what she had done, of what she had become.

Maybe she just wanted it to be over.

Or maybe she just wanted the money and attention she would garner from a Halloween special.

They certainly weren't going to _ask._

But in a few days, they would certainly _watch_.

_I wonder if Desiree will be watching too?_

The baby kicked.

The glass tipped.

Jimmy missed the grab.

And ice water went _everywhere._

And the twins gasped.

"Jimmy! That's _cold_!"

He grinned shamefacedly (but not really).

"Sorry."

And then he helped them clean up.

* * *

**Thanks to DinahRay, midnightrebellion86, haily94, Bumblebee93, Jurana Keri, autumnrose2010, The Cry-Wank Kid, cherryblossom53, and my mystery guest (who did thankfully survive the molds *winks) for all these great reviews. **

**Final chapter tomorrow. It's just about one of my favorites I've ever written (not to be bragging of course) and I really hope you enjoy it. :) I'm sure you'll let me know either way. **


	36. Yet to Learn

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really love these characters. As if you couldn't tell.

Jimmy, Not Moses

Yet to Learn

* * *

He had been sound asleep, contentedly cozied up in bed with his darlings.

But something had awakened him.

He didn't know what.

After going to bathroom, he'd slipped into the kitchen for a drink of water.

Sipping it, his dark eyes had absently wandered the still backyard.

And in the dim light of the full moon, had seen her.

Sitting in the swing.

Looking happier and healthier than he remembered ever seeing her.

In that same blue dress she'd worn when she visited him in the hospital.

That's how he knew she wasn't really there.

No matter how much he wanted her to be.

But he went to her anyway.

And sat beside her, as if this were nothing more than a casual midnight awakening and reunion.

"Hey, Ma."

She turned and smiled at him, her face full of quiet joy and contentment.

"Hey, son."

They remained there, quiet and still for a few moments in companiable silence, listening to the night sounds of the bullfrogs and the wind tinkling the chimes.

Dogs barking afar off.

And their own heartbeats.

Jimmy didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to feel.

Why she was here?

Was it a portent of darkness? Was he about to die? Was he already dead?

Or was it something else altogether?

His ma, with her full, healthy, brown beard, seemed relaxed and calm.

And since he had always tried to have faith in her in life, he decided to do the same now.

And waited.

When she did speak, her voice with its distinct Baltimore accent was just as he remembered and loved it.

"You've done well, son."

She sounded very pleased but to his relief, not all that surprised.

As if one of the rewards of death was knowing the future she was not a part of. Seeing her loved ones and knowing their fates.

"Thanks, Ma."

He wanted to ask _why are you here_, but he didn't.

Because truthfully, at the moment, it was enough that she was.

And his Ma had never been one to press. She would tell when she was ready.

So he continued to just take comfort in her presence. That warm, reassuring presence he had missed so much.

And then she spoke again, echoing bits of conversation they'd had so long ago.

But in a much different, more satisfactory light.

"Moses, leading the Israelites."

The comment embarrassed him a bit.

Mostly because he hadn't earned it.

He shook his head diffidently.

"I didn't really lead them. I was weak, lost. They led me."

Ma shrugged, as if the details were inconsequential.

"Don't matter. That's what family does. Take care of each other. Back and forth. You've taken care of them too, haven't you?"

He nodded.

"Some. A little. Yeah."

She took his chin in one warm, generous hand, and tilted his face up to meet her strong, clear, blue eyes.

"Point is, you've done good, Jimmy. And I'm proud of you."

And she was. it was painted all over her handsome face and shining out of her soul.

He relished the love in her gaze, relished her touch.

Relished her just being there.

He had missed her so.

"How are you, Ma?" he asked, suddenly feeling foolish and childish.

She smiled.

"Me? Oh, I'm good. Aches and pains all gone. Busy too. Full house every night. But everybody's getting along and you would believe even _Elsa's_ being good? No hissy fits, no deadly tantrums. I think it's 'cause she's got her Italian (she pronounced it 'eye-talian') boyfriend there to finally make her happy again."

She paused before continuing, a good-natured smirk on her face.

"And she can actually sing! Finally sounds now like she always _thought_ she did."

Ethel Darling shook her head, winking knowingly at her son.

"Still wears that god-awful blue eye shadow though."

They chuckled together and Jimmy felt like this was the way it should always be between them.

Would always be.

Then Ethel changed topic.

"Seen your baby in there."

He blinked at her in confusion.

"You've . . . _seen_ her? But she's still . . . she's not . . ."

Ethel smirked, cutting her eyes toward her dim son.

"Well, who do you think sent her to ya?"

She let him flounder around in this new concept for a moment before continuing.

"Yep, Leader and Creator of the whole kit-n-caboodle came right up to me with her in his arms."

Ethel dropped her voice into a deep, more mannish rumble, tinged with anticipation and pride.

"'What do you think, Ethel,' he says to me with a happy grin. 'You think they'll love her?'"

Ethel paused, running a fond hand through her son's sleep-tousled hair.

"And I says I to him, I says, 'Oh without a doubt. She's just right, sir. Just right.'"

Jimmy didn't know incorporeal spirits were capable of making jokes.

"Ma, are you pulling my leg?" he asked skeptically.

She grinned wider at him, every honest bone in her body smiling.

"Not in the least, son. 'S all true, every bit."

She waited, his patient ma, as he attempted to absorb this baffling revelation.

"Well," Jimmy finally ventured slowly. "Is she . . . the baby . . . is she . . . okay?"

Ethel's eyes practically glowed with pride.

"She's absolutely perfect, son. Gonna be beautiful and sharp with your charm and wit and gift of gab."

Jimmy tried again. He didn't _want_ to ask, he couldn't help _but_ to ask.

"But . . . is she . . . does she . . ."

Ethel laid a comforting hand on her son's shoulder.

"She's just _perfect_, Jimmy. Now . . . what do you think that means?"

He flailed about within himself, trying to think. Think like Ma. Think like her Creator and Leader with which she'd apparently been conversing.

He couldn't.

He was too human.

He finally gave up.

"I . . . I don't know."

Ethel smiled fondly at him.

"Well, then I guess you've still got a few things to learn," she remarked gently. "And that's okay. You'll figure it out when you get there."

Jimmy pondered this for a moment and Ethel Darling let him.

"And don't you go naming her after me," she admonished abruptly, as if reading his thoughts. "Give her a _good_ name, for Pete's sake, hear?"

Jimmy nodded obediently and she smiled again.

The comfortably round woman rose then and stretched.

"Well, better get going. Almost show time."

The little boy inside Jimmy immediately reached out for her.

"Ma . . . don't . . ."

She held up her hand to kindly stop his words.

"No, Jimmy. Not that. You know better. You know I'm always here. Right with you. You just gotta know where to look for me."

She tilted her head, as if drinking him in, pride and love radiating from her broad face.

"My boy . . . my wonderful boy . . . I love you, Jimmy . . ."

He refused to cry, refused to allow her to break apart in his vision, refused to waste these last few seconds with her in sadness.

So he smiled for her.

He smiled for his Ma.

"I love you too, Ma."

Then she was gone.

He sat a bit longer.

Under the moon.

Under the stars.

Under the watchful eye of Whoever might be out there.

And silently thanked It for the mysterious occurrence that had just taken place.

Then after a while of this quiet contemplation, he went back inside and cuddled up next to his darlings.

Softly laid a grateful arm across the swelling belly of his baby daughter.

And went back to sleep.

* * *

**"There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story." ― Frank Herbert**

**Yes, there could be, and is, so much more to tell. Happiness, sadness, strife, and peace. So the story is never truly over. This is just where I'm stopping this particular one.**

**To those of you who know me and my life, this chapter was written before my life event in May. And I'm really glad it was because this chapter gave me just a touch more of strength to face it and continue to face the unknown.**

**And to those of you who don't know me, I hope you enjoyed this chapter simply for what it is. :)**

**Thank you all for reading this story. I hope it has been satisfying and enjoyable.**

**Thanks in particular to haily94, midnightrebellion86, DinahRay, Bumblebee93, and The Cry-Wank Kid for so loyally reviewing for so long! This is officially the longest fanfic I've ever written with 'The Long Game' being one chapter less.**

**And thanks to White Demon Love Story for adding your support as well. :)**

**Anyway, sending positive waves out to you all. And thanks again.:)**


End file.
